Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, places, or names in the Hunger Games trilogy. All rights go to their respective owners.
When I awake I am lying in a bed. It's not the one I share with Peeta, it's a lot smaller and the room is far more clinical, that's really the only way to harsh white on white room.
"You're awake," the source of the voice caresses my cheek and at his touch I know it is Peeta.
"Leave me," I say, turning away from him.
"I'm so sorry, Katniss. I brought my frustrations out on you. I swear to you, it will never happen again," Peeta runs his hand through his mess of blonde curls, "I love you," he says, the desperation in his voice apparent.
"If you love me you will leave," I tell him, turning my head away, "I'm tired and carrying your child, you owe me that respect."
He turns to leave but I stop him, "Don't," I say, reaching out for him with my hand, "I'm tired of constantly arguing with you and I don't have the strength to fight two battles at once. Come," I pat down the surface next to me, "sit. I want information."
He complies, gently pressing into the mattress and I turn to face him, "So that's that, my brethren are fighting my wedded."
He nods, "Your people have aligned themselves with the lot of barbarians and misfits. You know, some will wonder where you are positioned in this equation," he hesitates.
I think back to the girl in the inn, how she expected me to be a revolutionary. Where did I stand, exactly? I was never really given the chance to form opinions; my entire life the people around me had formed them on my behalf. At the very least I had chosen my allies through my bonds, but now I had ties on both sides- for me, this was a civil war that I had no interest in fighting. Naturally, I felt for both the people of Panem and my own country; hadn't I myself lamented the oppression put upon us? But Peeta was a good king. Better than any barbarian who would rise from the ashes of the anguish that would certainly befall us if this ever became something.
Now what would come of this 'war'? Tears, anguish, dead in the streets. Regardless of who won the outcome was poor for me. If Peeta succeeded, my homeland would be in ruins and for the rest of my life there would always be that little inkling in the back of everybody's mind that I was nothing more than the child of a traitorous nation. My people, Gale, none of them would fare well in the end. However, if by some act of God, the rebelling forces were able to accomplish something it would be Peeta who would surely lose his head. And what would be left for me? I would be exiled to a summer estate, or more likely, sent back to Seam to live my life as if our little marriage had never happened. I would once again be the simple noble of an insignificant nation, or perhaps, if the people were fond of me I might resume position as reigning monarch at Gale's right hand. I would live- it would be my child who would suffer the consequences. If it was a girl, she would be tolerated in the court of any nation. A boy's fate, however, would be entirely uncertain.
No matter what happened, somebody would end up dead- and I would be the one watching somebody I care for slaughter somebody I loved.
"Does it matter where I stand?" I say to him, carefully dancing around the topic, "I was under the impression that my opinion never mattered, as these same gossipers denounced me as nothing more than an insignificant child from a country that never crossed their mind?" I frown slightly as I attempt to dodge his question.
"It doesn't matter what they think, Katniss, not entirely. However, we all must make a choice at some point in our lives," he removes a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, the letter that Gale sent to me, "Don't get me wrong here, I will love you and protect you regardless of where you align yourself, but you must remember something, Katniss. That baby, our child, will be the heir to this country. Panem will be its rightful land and you ought to understand that a mother must keep mind of that."
The letter falls against the bed and I snatch it up, a bit too quickly, tucking it under my dress. I don't answer his question. I can't. I don't even know the answer myself, so I simply glare at him and leave our conversation hanging, letting him know that I have no interest in the word games he's playing.
"Fine," he says, the bed squeaks as he pulls himself up from the bed, "I love you, I'm sorry- I'm true in that respect." He starts towards the door, "And Katniss, I want to see you in council room this evening. No excuses." And just like that he gives me a tip of his hat before swiftly exiting the room."
After Peeta leaves they move me from the tiny medic room to the quarters I have taken up at this estate. I'm still a little weak from my episode, so I'm allowed to remove my corsets and spend the rest of the day propped up on the sofas in my nightdress.
They serve me a meal a couple hours later. The stew is lukewarm and the bread is cold, it's a long walk from the kitchen to my rooms, but I'm still delighted to share a meal in my own company. It's almost like home, And so I'm relaxed for a moment, that is- until I get a visitor.
Countess Johanna strolls into my parlor room with nothing more than a wave at the guards. Her deep red gown crinkles as she slides down next to me, propping her feet up on the table and stealing a pastry from my dish. Johanna was odd in that way. She didn't care for customs or acting 'like a lady ought to', yet her necklines were low and she could most certainly hold her own in court. And oh, she could play innocent when she wanted to. Had a marvelous knack for it when Effie was around. I still hadn't figured her out, but then again, I was never good at reading people.
"So, Princess," Johanna takes a bite of my pastry, "Heard you had a little spell earlier."
"And you just took it upon yourself to visit me?" I eye her suspiciously.
"Well, I most certainly could not let my poor Queen bear her illness alone," she brings her hand to her chest and crones on in a mockingly sweet fashion.
"Don't worry," I tell her, "I'll do fine on my own."
"I'm sure you will," she says, breaking from her sarcastic dialect for only a moment, "I… heard about the situation," she hesitates, "it must be rough. Everybody's talking- but, you're still attending council, right?"
"Of course."
"They aren't fond of the idea. Your sex can be overlooked, but there are accusations-," Johanna drops closer to my ear, "I would keep a watch on my back if I were you."
We pause our conversation for a moment as one of the serving girls brings in a tea tray. It's almost funny how we both know to keep our mouths shut, nobody could be trusted these days.
"Nobody is stupid enough to name me traitor while I am still in my husband's favor. I'm going," I say, "nobody can stop me."
"Good," she says, a glint of admiration in her voice as she throws me a smirk, "you'll have to keep me informed."
I stir a few sugar cubes into my tea, giving a light sip before broaching a question, "Doesn't your husband tell you of such things. I know he's on the council."
"Blight?" She almost laughs, "Oh, he barely pays attention to the meetings themselves. I certainly can't count on him for information and besides, most of my lovers are of the belief that those aren't 'female matters'. Us women have to stick together if we want to have any semblance of what is going on."
"Lovers?" I whisper, the word pours carefully into the air. An affair was enough to have you beheaded in some parts. Could she be so open about it?
"Don't be coy," the Countess "Blight's a good boy- decent husband, but I'm not you. He doesn't care much if I keep my men."
I wonder what that would be like. To have that much freedom as a woman. To keep your husband yet sleep with whoever you pleased. "It's different for me," I say, "Peeta cares for me."
She winks, "Yes, but is he still good in bed?"
"Still?" I say, raising an eyebrow.
She shrugs like it doesn't matter, "We've had our fun."
I'm not sure how I feel about it. Johanna and my husband, together in bed? Being so close to a woman who had touched him and felt him, a woman who had pleasured him and fit herself against the same skin that I felt each night. I hated Lady Glimmer, it was justifiable, but Johanna was tolerable- maybe even a friend, and the thought of Peeta's mouth on her body?
"He's good." I confirm, "Not that I have much to compare it to."
She gives me a dismissive wave, "You'd know if he was bad, I assure you. There's a thing he does, with his mouth…" she sighs as if giving it a moment of thought, "You should definitely let him give it a try- ask him sometime, tell him you want to test things out."
I squirm a little in my seat. Despite my lack of virginity I still wasn't quite comfortable with Johanna giving me sexual advice based on her past experiences with my husband. "I don't think that will happen anytime soon," I wrinkle my nose, "We aren't exactly on the best of terms. Considering."
"I don't know what I'd do if I was you," she speaks abruptly, "I don't have many people left, but I would still choose them over my husband, if I had the choice."
"I don't really get to make a choice." I snap at her, feeling suddenly defensive, "Even if I did, what would it matter? I don't care for revolution or war, I just want my people safe- regardless of the means."
"But if you had to make a decision," she presses, "you can be honest with me, would you choose those who share your blood or he who shares your bed?"
"Look around," I say, my eyes flitting from the gilded walls to the clean silk fabric that draped over my stomach, "Is it ever smart to betray such power?"
"Well then," Johanna eyes flit to the ruby that burns against my skin, "Perhaps you should get dressed, wouldn't want to miss your keeper?"
My second visitor arrives not long after the girls dress me. I decide on a very simple gown, a green striped thing. It's silk, of course, and commands a certain elegance- but there are no frills, no lacy sleeves or bowed fronts. It's perhaps the plainest sack back I own, but it's perfect.
"Hello, Katniss." My husband is wearing a dark brown silk jacket and waistcoat paired with navy breeches. His eyes burn hair is a little out of place
"I hope you will keep your peace today," he says, "Unfortunately, I'm afraid we are both stuck here and at this point, you're in desperate need of the Court's support."
"I'm not," I say, "I could run." I eye him, my back stiffening as he observes me. I doubt I looked very threatening as I traipsed over a canape.
"Yes," he contemplates the thought for a moment, "you could, but how far would you make it?"
"You'd be surprised."
"I doubt it, I know what your capabilities are- and I imagine you could most certainly flee if you were on your own," he says to me, voicing my very own concerns. Prim was my weakness, I couldn't desert her nor would either of us last long if I was forced to drag her across the country. He eyes with a glint, slightly sneering as he continues, "I believe we are both aware you would do quite a few things if there was nobody you loved at disposal."
I narrow at him. "Don't do that," I say, my voice softer than normal. At this point, I'm so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of my life being constantly upheaved. "Don't look at me as if I am guilty of anything."
Every eye in the room goes to look at me as I enter the council cabinet. I had been to a few meetings before, but I merely seated myself in the background and observed as the group of a hundred or so men argued over trade agreements and penalties on taxes.
But I'm a Queen. I can't sit in the background for long, not if I was going to spend my reign as anything more than a wife. So I take the seat to Peeta's right at the desk in the center of the room, barely giving anything more than a gesture to the official that usually takes that place.
The crowd is significantly smaller today. It's odd, really. The council discussions were usually held with a group of men in view but today is strictly limited to Peeta's closest advisors. I'm glad, when I look around, that I kept my dress to a plain simple overfrock. Most of the men are dressed as if they had only heard there was meeting ten minutes ago, their waistcoats and jackets askew. If I had showed up in fine dress and hat, knowing I had been in bed rest a handful of hours ago- surely they would have mocked me?
As the meeting is called to order, Peeta rises from his desk and addresses the group of men, "I assume you are all aware of why we have been called here today. I know we discussed it on lighter terms last evening."
The group of men shuffle in their seats, nodding amongst themselves. "Yes, we're very aware," Duke Finnick takes a rise from his seat, "kinda hard not to be."
"And I trust you have all been discreet," Peeta says, "Here, does anybody have the files I found this morning? I believe that Katniss should be informed before we proceed any further." He directs me casually, Katniss. Not even my wife or your Queen, just Katniss.
There's some shuffling in the room as the council members gather the strewn papers they hold in their hands and pass them forward to where Peeta and I sit.
"What is it about?" I ask, scanning the papers that one of the older council members hands over to me, "I don't see anything strange."
I can't help be on my guard, I can tell from the way they glance at me, the way their quiet murmurs of my insolence echo against the gilded walls- everybody has me pin-marked for whatever act has been committed.
"They are meant to be codes in plain disguise. Regular merchant logs to the common eyes, but in reality they hold things of great value. Financial information, soldier numbers, supplies and trades. The whole likes, all imbedded in the logs. One of my men discovered it when he captured a merchant doing trade with the barbarians."
"I don't quite understand." I say, raising my voice to the group, "They are trading information, alright, but how does this pertain to me?" I'm far from comfortable at the way the people in this room seem to eye me.
A rotund, balding man from the far corner speaks up, "It's revolutionary business, miss. They call themselves The Mockingjays. After that silly bird, lord knows one of them must have a knack for figurative poetry."
Mockingjays, they're funny birds and something of a slap in the face to Panem. During the Dark Days, the finest breeders in the Capitol had worked on differing animals, mixing dog breeds or birds and training them for various tasks. Whether they be for used for looks or to sniff out rebels, it was universally agreed in Seam that they were wholly unnatural. The common term for them was muttations, or sometimes mutts for short. One was a special bird called a jabberjay that had the ability to pick up on signals in ways that most birds would not. They were homing birds, a smarter, more attractive take on a carrier pigeon, After the birds gathered tunes, a special code system learned by Panem's army, they'd fly back to centers and in their own special language, alert the generals of how many were soldiers were here and what coordinates they planned on advancing to. It was useful at first, their songs seemed like nothing more than silly tunes to most. It took people a while to realize what was going on in. Then, of course, the rebels figured out the system, fed the Capitol endless lies with nothing more than a tune, and the joke was on. Eventually, Panemian forces realized they were being played and left the birds to die off in the wilderness.
Only they didn't die off. Instead, the jabberjays mated with female mockingbirds creating a whole new species. They had lost the ability to truly hold on to melodies, but their voices were still sweet and they shone brightly despite the fact that Panem still reigned.
My father was particularly fond of mockingjays. When we went hunting, he would whistle or sing a tune and, after a polite pause, they'd always sing back. Not everyone is treated with such respect. But whenever my father sang, all the birds in the area would fall silent and listen. His voice was that beautiful, high and clear and so filled with life it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. I could never bring myself to continue the practice after he was gone. Still, there's something comforting about the little bird. It's like having a piece of my father with me, protecting me.
"That's beside the point, Jeffrey," says the gruffy, unmistakable voice of Lord Albernathy, "The truth is, sweetheart, they have information that could only come from the inside. Information that isn't acquired by stable boys or servants, the type of information that is only released among the elite. Some of that very information rarely leaves the walls of this room, and yet it is enclosed in documents traded among traitorous merchants? How do you explain that?"
And that's when it clicks, Johanna's comment- everything that has unfolded over the past weeks. I knew what she was doing,
There was a traitor. Traitors, even. And I knew exactly where I could find one.
Author's Note: I'm afraid this was a bit of a filler chapter and yes, Katniss and Peeta were at odds for most of it- but I promise there will be some good scenes up ahead. I'm looking forward to writing in a few scenes where everlark establishes more of a friendship, which I'm hoping you guys will be looking forward to. Send me a review, let me know what you think!