Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Hunger Games universe. All characters, names, and places belong to their respective owners.
"Tell me you are not playing with my emotions," Peeta says, shellshocked.
Instinctively I curl backwards, prepared for his reaction, "No," I breathe, "I'm not- but it's not concrete," I reach out for him, placing my hands on his, "nobody can tell definitively."
"No-" he says, relaxing his position and sighing against the cool surface, "I figured that much. I suppose it makes sense with everything that's happened. Oh Katniss," he says, pulling me closer, "A baby, Katniss, a living child. We're going to have one of our own now."
I lie back against him, surprised by his casual reaction. A baby was less than ideal at the moment, it was really the last thing that either of us needed right now. The idea of my pregnancy made for a perfectly good story to feed to the people, but actually producing an heir made us both vulnerable in a way that was hardly suited for the current political situation.
"Do you not care?" I ask him, "What this will do to us, to me? We will never be the same again, doesn't it bother you?"
He looks at me in confusion, "Having a child is always a blessing, Katniss. Can you really be so cruel?" he stares at me for a moment before turning away, "We may have a new human being soon, a little baby that is a perfect mix of the two of us. Can anything about that really be so horrible?"
When he speaks to me his voice is so soft and lofty. I can almost hear the sweet aspirations he has for the rosy cheeked, blonde haired child that resides in his brain. This baby would be his heir, his legacy, something to look forward to when he came home from battle. But from my perspective, this child would only bring me grief if it was born. Pain in childbirth. Another person who it will be my responsibility to protect. Pain, pain, and more pain.
If the child was male, I would be forced to worry about those who would wish to usurp him. If the child was female, I would have to shroud her from the disappointment and resentment people would hold against her due to her gender, then I would eventually have to relive my own horrors in watching her be ripped from my arms and sent away to marry a foreigner, who would most likely be both callous and older, for the sake of diplomatic relations. Either way, the child would be nothing more than a pawn, and I what exactly could I do to protect it when I was just another piece in the game?
Women healers were far from an oddity in Seam. In a country where most could not afford doctors, healers were the only thing we had. My own mother had practiced in the ways of a healer. When she had been a woman of Panem, her blood family had dealt in the trade of apothecary medications, and she had learned their ways alongside the women in her family's estate. Even during her time in Seam she had called upon the peasant women and worked with them, teaching newer, safer methods and even bringing Prim, small, tiny, Prim, along with her. I, of course, was never included.
So I was comfortable when Ruba, the older, plump woman who the physician directed me to, examined my bare belly and declared with certainty that, "the baby will be male."
She was lying, of course. They almost always say the child will be a boy in order to please the mother. I had seen the trick a dozen times and even the Doctor could hardly say if I was certainly pregnant, but I take the package of herbs she prescribes me anyways and allow my guards to direct me back into the carriage as they settle her fee.
Peeta would be happy with the news. Even the lofty, unsubstantiated promise of a boy would bring any King to tears. But I decide against telling him of Ruba's predictions. I wasn't going to make my child, if it may be a girl, any more of a disappointment.
About half way through the carriage ride home from Ruba's shop, I notice that we are most certainly not going in our intended direction. There was a very distinguishable change in our surroundings. Instead of heading back towards the woods, we were moving farther east. Most passengers wouldn't have cared to notice it, but my father had trained me to always be alert of my surroundings and with recent events I had to be more careful than ever. At first, I panic. The plush gold lining of my personal carriage is almost suffocating as I think of the possibilities. The driver could be bringing me anywhere. For all I knew he was waiting to bring my head to the barbarians. My initial reaction is flight, I could easily slip the door open and run, but what then?
I had a good knowledge of the woods, but with the accompaniment of guards, who must be compliant in whatever this was, they would surely catch me and then, if I was wrong in my assumption, then what would they do to me?
So instead I remain in my seat and tighten my grip on the spare knife I keep stowed away in my pockets.
In a pleasant turn of events in an otherwise disastrous world, my anguish is for naught. When the guards finally open the doors and allow me to step out, there is that same familiar blonde head waiting for me in the little patch of woods where we stop.
At the sight of him, a rush of reliefs flows over my body. Whatever it may be between us, where there was Peeta, I was safe.
He's just standing there, hands in his pockets with a loopy, silly grin on his face when I step out. His clothes are rougher than the pieces he normally wears. A plain brown jacket and matching breeches. A loose white shirt. A sword hanging low over his waist. He's pleasantly rugged and I can't help but feel attracted to him when he's like this. He felt more real when he wasn't dolled up. Like a man instead of a King. What I would give right now to trade these woods for tangled limbs and messy sheets.
"What's all this?" I yell out to him, throwing my arms up and looking around. It's nothing special, just a little path of woods. Ordinary woods from what I can tell.
"An oasis," he replies, swiftly greeting me with a hug and motioning for the men to disperse, "Here," he says, pressing something small into my hand, "I bought you a gift."
Immediately I can sense the delicate chain in my palm. It's a ruby necklace, beautifully sculpted in a simple gold setting. The ruby itself is massive, a large oval gem encased in a pendant of the same gold, with small diamond flowers decorating the edges. If I was the type of girl who fussed over jewlery, I would call it breathtakingly beautiful. I had never seen anything quite like it amongst the royal gems of Panem.
"They found it in the far east around the time of our engagement. It's very rare to acquire a ruby of that size, you know? I intended to present it to you as a wedding gift, but my jewelers took longer than I expected. You like it, don't you?" he looks up at me, hopeful.
I swing my arms around him and squeeze him as tightly as possible, "I love it," I press my head against his neck, "thank you."
I release my grip from him and swing my arms around his waist, leaning against his body as we walk further into the wooded area.
The leaves crunch with the indistinguishable sounds of the beginning of fall as we walk through the woods. It's pleasant to do something simple with him. To have his hand in mine as we journeyed under the canopy of branches. I feel the ever present urge to just reach up and kiss him, to pounce on him and fulfil the desperately unexplainable urge I feel towards him, but I managed to contain myself in order to preserve the moment.
"I enjoy being with you," I tell him, disrupting our silence. There is a small stream to our left and in the distance I can see a deer drinking at its waters.
"I should hope so," Peeta nervously runs a hand through his hair, "you are carrying my child, after all."
I frown a little. Why did he have to bring up the baby at a time like this? It was an unsettling notion. Besides, acknowledging the baby did nothing more than make my skin crawl with thoughts of pregnancy.
"It's true-" I say, wrapping my hands around his arm, "you're not old, or ugly, or particularly mean. I could have done a lot worse, you know?"
Peeta pulls us over to an upturned log and sits me down, "I'm not quite sure if that is a compliment or not."
"It is, you're a good husband. Better than most- you have never harmed me."
He pulls my body closer to his, "And I never will."
His hands move around my waist and I lay circled in his warm embrace. It's an intimate moment, we're truly alone for once, and all that matters right now is the feeling of his skin against mine. Even now, I can forget about everything. Forget about the barbarians or my father. Forget than I'm a Queen. It's intoxicatingly simple.
"You should kiss me," I say.
"I should kiss you?" Peeta says, an edge in his voice as he pulls my body around so that I am no longer sitting in his lap, but rather facing him. He doesn't wait long to succeed to my command, him mouth warm and soft as he teases me, insistently parting my lips.
"I brought you here so I may sketch you," he says, placing his hands on my shoulders as he pulls away, "but now I think it's best we make it back to our beds as soon as possible."
He pulls me another kiss, his hands settling over my breasts as he explores the inside of my mouth with urgency.
The carriage ride back to the palace is tense. Peeta and I sit on the same cushioned seat, our hands intertwined but our bodies a safe distance from each other. Even the lapse of his breaths is enough to drive my body towards his.
We waste no time getting back to our rooms. Peeta and I don't even bother waiting for the guards to open the doors before we rush, almost run, towards the south end entrance. His face is gleeful, messy sandy hair and bright blue eyes radiating as he almost leaps through the hallways, dragging me with him to the obstinate door that marks our bedroom.
There is barely a second after the door is shut before he pushes my body against the wall, his hands desperate and needy as he unhooks the backings of my over gown just enough to cause the gown to drape low on my shoulders. It's exhilarating, being with him, everything around me seems to brighten as my palms glide over his chest, not caring much about preserving his clothes as I push his pop the buttons off of his shirt.
It's not long before the floor is covered with the various pieces of our assembled dress. My over gown is first to go, then my petticoats and his undershift.
Soon the only thing left on my body is the ruby pendant hanging across my neck.
It's not long before he is inside of me, our bodies strung across the bed, not even entirely lying on it. It's hasty and delirious, perhaps the most incredible experience of my life- but then something happens that destroys our entire evening together. Just as we are coming close to completion, the tell tale screech of the door radiates through the room and one of Peeta's guards burst through.
At the realization that there is a third party in the room I lose not only lost my train of thought, but every semblance coordination. My face flushes as Peeta comes to a stop and hastily pulls away from my body.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," the red-headed guard says, averting his gaze, "but the King is needed immediately in the throne room."
I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in my bed. I can't bring myself to sleep, all I can think of is what could be so horrible that Peeta would be called so abruptly to the throne. So instead I am forced to focus on the suffocating feeling the white, sweaty sheets form around me, the way my heart clenches as I think of the danger we may be in. How my home may be stormed once again, if it was Gale who would end up beheaded in a field this time…
But eventually, well into the dark of the night, somebody joins in the bed. At first, I barely notice his presence in the room. I'm distraught and tired, curled up in the sheets at the opposite end of the sheets, so its not until he settles into the other end of the bed that I recognize the indent of my husband.
"Peeta," I call out to him, my voice low as I roll towards him. He's laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
"Go to sleep, Katniss," his voice has a weary, almost harsh quality to it.
"What happened?" I question, pushing my body on top of his and tracing my fingers against his chest, "can I tend to you?"
"Katniss," he says impatiently pushing me off him, "just go to sleep, we can deal with this in the morning."
When I wake the next morning it is already mid afternoon. The late night I had spent awake had caused me, but apparently not Peeta, who is already long gone, to sleep in.
So after I am woken and dressed, I decide to take a solitary stroll in the gardens. It's a nice enough way to spend the rest of the afternoon, and besides, I knew that I was not going to be informed of whatever was going on until it was either made public or I was invited into the council.
It's to my utter surprise when my walk is interrupted, allowing for that very news to come earlier than expected.
"Your Majesty, a message has come for you," a white gloved footman dressed in Panem's signature red and gold livery extends an intricate silver platter, with nothing more than a creamy white letter on top of it, towards me.
The first thing I notice about the letter is that it is addressed not to the Queen of Panem, but rather the Archduchess of Seam. It's a subtle dig, the type that could only come from one person.
Gale.
I worry for a moment about the intent of the letter. After all this time, Gale has never written. He was never the type, of course, but I was sure it was partly due to the resentment over Peeta. For a moment a wave of panic hits me as I wonder if it was something tragic that had brought him to his pen. And then it notice it. There is something wrong with the seal that lines the back of the letter. It's broken. Carefully pieced back together in order to appear intact, but still broken.
My face flushes with anger at the knowledge. They have rifled through my letters, taken every semblance of privacy from me and torn it to shreds.
I don't even bother to read the letter, I'm too angry at the moment. "Guard!" I screech at the top of my lungs.
One of the younger men rushes to my aid, "Your Highness," he says to me, avoiding my gaze, "are you in need of assistance."
"Alert the King that I am in need of his immediate presence."
Peeta is sitting at an overbearing mahogany desk when I burst into his private office. It's a fairly large room with crisp white walls and gilded moldings. Although relatively simple in design there are more books in here than even the library in my quarters.
"Why exactly have you called on me?" Peeta sighs and takes a sip of wine from the goblet sitting on his desk, "I do not appreciate being pulled from meetings, if you must know," he looks up from the papers he is reading and gives me a cold, questioning glance. He's angry with me, and for a reason I can't quite understand. Over the past few days he has been nothing but overjoyed thanks to my state.
"You've been searching through my mail," I state plainly, pulling the letter from my bosom and smacking it against his desk.
Peeta looks at me, seemingly unfazed, "Of course I am."
I am befuddled by his admittance, "You don't deny it, then?" I ask, wrinkling my forehead.
Peeta gives a callous laugh, his tone finally shifting from the removed voice he has been speaking in, "Oh Katniss, don't be naive with me. I am a King, I can certainly not allow for my wife to be in direct and unsupervised contact with a man who is not only her former fiance, but a traitor to the crown. I cannot have my wife betray me too."
My head spins in confusion at his words. A traitor? What on earth did he mean? I had never heard Peeta speak to me, or anybody else for that matter, in this way.
"Peeta," I say, collapsing onto my knees and resting against his desk, "what do you mean?"
"I think," he pauses, his voice almost cracking before he pulls into the same steely resolve, "sometimes you forget that I am a King, your King for that matter, and that my duties are first to my crown. I do not have the ability to give sympathies and I hope that is something you will come to understand. You are lucky that my affections for you are strong," Peeta finished off his drink, "read the letter, Katniss," he says, tossing the paper back to me.
My mind numb with confusion I pop open the envelope and pull out the letter. It's a rather thick piece of paper, a bit odd for this type of letter, and there's a little gold stamp on the upper right hand corner with the Everdeen insignia on it.
Dear Katniss,
You know I am not particularly fond of writing letters, but I felt that you deserved this one. There will be news in the passing weeks that will come as a shock to you. You will surely anger with me. If I was there with you, I am certain you would slap me and call me a fool. But that is besides the point, for you must remember that whatever happens between us politically, we are still bound by the same blood. You are mine, I am yours. We are forever bounded by the ties of family and I beg you to remember this as difficult as things may become for you.
- Gale
"You are mine," Peeta says mockingly as I look up from the letter, "you have to love that line. He's a hopeless chap," he spews bitterly.
The words weren't Gale's, exactly. The handwriting was his, sure, but it was written too formally. In the letters I had received from him during his travels he never cared to write in a good tongue and there were always drawings and knick knacks attached. This was a letter that Gale had expected for others to read. He knew they would be watching him, but why?
"What is going on, Peeta," my voice teeters as I demand a response from him.
"Your little lover declared war on Panem a fortnight ago. News finally reached me last night."
War? It made no sense, what reason did Gale, who was my cousin, who benefited from Panem, have to declare a war he could never win on the greatest country in the region.
"You are pulling one on me, surely?" I say, my eyes stinging as a void brushes over me.
"Unfortunately," Peeta chuckles, "I am not. He's been planning this for weeks," Peeta shoves the papers next to him across the table in the a display of anger. "Oh Katniss, he took me for a fool! The visit to Panem, it was a fraud. The bastard used it as a way to infiltrate us, all while I was sweetening him up in an attempt to impress your family," Peeta stands up with a bang, "You know that, Katniss? I wanted to impress him. I wanted to make your people happy with me, I wanted to be part of your family. And now what? Your blood is out for mine."
"Peeta," I say, backing away from him as I clamp my hand around my mouth in an attempt to stifle my tears, "I can't- I don't."
"Don't bother," he says, the disgust apparent in his voice. And I can't help it anymore, I just collapse against the wall and fall into oblivion.
Author's Note: Well, what did you think? What do you think Gale is trying to accomplish by declaring war? I was actually able to get this chapter out in only a week AND this is a fairly long chapter- which I'm sure is nice, as I'm usually late uploading chapters.
How do you feel about Katniss and Peeta's dynamic? I would love to know what y'all think!
As always, I would like to thank my beta, prisspanem.
You can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety. I post spoilers, inspirations, alerts, etc. about my fanfiction, so if you are interested feel free to check that out.