That night Prim had a dream, one unlike any she'd ever had before. Usually her dreams were full of bright colors, cheerful friends and furry animals to cuddle and nurse to the peak of health. This dream was different. It took place in the forest, a place where unless she was gathering herbs, Prim tried to avoid. The woods were a dark and frightening place full of creeping shadows and malicious beasts. Nowhere she'd ever go willingly.

Like with many of her dreams her father was present. But it wasn't a dream of tearful reunions with her family or of happier times long past. Her father stood in a forest clearing, a stretch of blank earth surrounded by a ring of tall oaks and pines. He was dressed in his hunting jacket and boots, and he held the bow he'd spent months meticulously shaping out of wood. He wasn't alone.

Another man stood a few paces off. His face bore an uncanny resemblance to Prim's father's, though his other features were completely alien. A mane of bright blonde hair cascaded down his shoulders, and the bow he carried was of purest gold. Shimmering lights seemed to dance around his form, like sunbeams caught in a whirlwind that twirled and spinned in a merry sonata. In his other hand he carried a beautiful instrument stringed in gold, it's surface lacquered to a flawless shine.

Glancing once and each other, the two men began their long trek through the forest. They exited the clearing, and walls of closely growing tree trunks formed a narrow dirt path into the forest's depths. As one the two opened their mouths and began to sing. Birds stopped their chirping, squirrels stopped their chattering, and even the wind itself seemed to stop and listen to the song.

Perfectly harmonized notes wove together and drifted upwards through the trees. Their words were in a strange, foreign language, but their meaning was made clear by the rhythm, by the soul of the music. Emotions both joyous and sorrowful eminated from the sounds, emotions so moving that even nature itself was quivering around it. sunlight broke through the canopy, illuminating the singers' faces.

Watching from somewhere above, from outside of the dream, Prim felt her heart melt. Her father's voice had been renowned as the greatest in the district. So beautiful were his songs that even the birds stopped to listen. It was the voice that had charmed Prim's mother, and now, even in dreams, it brought the youngest Everdeen a flood of memories both euphoric and mournful.

In the same instant the two men ended the song. The blonde with the instrument turned Phillip Everdeen, and pressed his golden bow into his hands.

He spoke a few more words in that strange language and pressed his lips to Phillip's forehead.

"To you I offer this, my son. Let your aim be ever true, and your descendants blessed."

And then the dream shifted.

A young man of about twenty kenlt on a feautureless plane of swirling blackness. Great metal chains bound his arms to the floor. Golden blood flowed in rivulets down his bared chest, freshly inflicted wounds glistening dangerously. Sweat drenched his handsome face, matting his messy black mane. His eyes were green as the sea, piercing and full of power.

Another man dressed in a business suit of the capitol materialized before him. His features were blurred and distorted as if only half there. Yet a malicious grin was still clear on his face. A grin, and his eyes, black pools nothingness. Their gaze alone would be enough to kill a weaker man. Out of the swirling void around them a shadowy dagger formed in the man's hand.

Still grinning, he held it to chained man's throat. Veins pulsed anxiously beneath the blade's cold touch.

"You put your faith in a child, Perseus" the man drawled in a voice that crackled the air and sent terror shrieking down Prim's spine. It was a voice that lacked the sound of a threat. It wasn't a voice that meant to hurt, it was a voice meant to destroy and ruin. "The Fates may have deemed her noteworthy, but the Fates forget the simplest of truths." With a flick of the wrist he dragged the dagger along his captive's neck. Golden blood seeped from the wound, dripping down to pool at his knees. "In the end, god of heroes, there can be only Chaos."

Again the dream shifted.

Katniss stood alone on a barren field of ashes. She was naked apart from a simple necklace. A pearl hung from a leather cord around her neck, settling in the valley between her breasts. She wore a blank expression free of thought or feeling.

Storm clouds billowed gray in the sky above. Thunder boomed in the distance, lightning forked across the expanse, and the smell of oncoming rain hung heavily in the air.

Then Katniss began to walk. Each of her steps left a deep print on the field of ashes. Bits flaked like dust and drifted around her legs, staining her olive skin an ugly steaked gray. As she moved something in her expression began to change. Not anything overt like a smile or a lifted brow. Something subtler, the heat in her eyes and the deliberateness of her stride.

Slowly her pace grew faster and faster, until she was running at a dead sprint across the wasteland. Dust billowed in clouds behind her, rising like smoke. Her arms pumped back and forth as she ran. And then she ignited. Around her elbows and shoulders flames sparked into life. Sparks became hungry fire tongues streaming out behind Katniss like the tail of some magnificent elemental bird.

The tongues snaked their ways around the young woman's form, enveloping her in a fiery embrace that covered her from head to toe in oranges and yellows and red. Somehow the flaking ashes beneath her feet were caught up in the blaze, and sparks found new homes in the layered decay of previously burnt wood.

Before long towers of flame fifty feet high rage over the field of ashes. As if dancing the tongues licked and twirled round one another, wreathing the world in heat and smoke. They rippled and roared like waves on an orange sea, and at the center of it all stood Katniss.

She'd stopped running, and had come to rest at the center of the inferno. Flames clothed her form in shimmering light. The fire rolled over her skin and braided itself harmlessly in her hair. She was a goddess of flame. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire. Whatever little sunlight managed to pierced the stormy colored clouds was made dim by the flames. They were a star all their own, with the whole world revolving around and within them.

And then from beneath the flames the ashes rose into the air. For a moment they hung there motionless, a million tiny black specks dangling above the ground. Then, like a swarm of insects, they descended on Katniss, arranging themselves along her body. It took maybe a dozen layers, but when the ashes had done their work, the braid-wearing girl from the Seam was draped in a magnificent gown of blacks and whites and grays. From the way they were angled the ashes looked like feathers, transforming Katniss into an enormous humanoid bird.

A mockingjay. Whose beauty was surpassed only by her voice.

Tentatively, Katniss lifted one of her hands, staring at it almost quizzically. As she gazed at it a molten hot ring of flawless gold appeared around ring finger. Attached to it by a firm steel clasp was a thin silvery chain that disappeared into the swirling vortex of flames, binding her to something unseen.

A moment passed before the chain lost some of it's tension and a second figure stepped out of the fire and into view. It was Peeta Mellark. He wore a scarlet suit embroidered with orange at the sleeves and collar, giving his form the appearance of the surrounding flames. On his left hand he wore a similar golden ring, where the chain's other end was secured. Between the chains links a minuscule red thread was woven tightly, forming a second bond between the ring bearers. An eternal string old as fate itself.

Peeta smiled at the girl he loved, smile full of sincerity and genuine affection. His hair shimmered in the firelight. Katniss said nothing, her face stony and unreadable as ever. Unfazed by the fire, the baker boy stepped towards her. Before long they stood just a single pace away, eyes locked blue on gray. Their lips came together in a kiss. It was confusing gesture on both their parts. For the boy it was a true kiss, a sign of love. Yet for the girl it was nothing yet everything at the same time. Eons passed and their lips stayed locked.

Eventually the pairs' arms embraced the other's form. The kiss deepened and sparked in the form of new dancing flames colored green like the forest. Their shimmering auras mixed and mingled as a single entity. Two souls entwined and became as one.

Peeta's hand trailed down Katniss's neck, moving down the length of her arm and coming to rest on her stomach. There the slightest of bulges had appeared, stretching the fabric of her magnificent gown.

In a the flames disappeared along with Peeta. Among the flames a thousand shadowy images began to fade in and out of sight. Ghostly wisps of people, hardly there at all starting and stopping like clips of an old film. Dozens of capitol soldiers darted across a battlefield with assault rifles raised. Gunshots popped liked crackling corn over a fire. Shadowy combatants tore at one another with sticks and improvised weapons. Glowing figures clashed high above in the sky, and arrows streaked in all directions.

A shadowy version of Gale tumbled into view, grappling with a spiky haired girl in a torn silver vest. Gale's face was contorted with barely contained fury. His form was ghostly, like the others, but it left an afterimage everywhere it moved. A second man with blonde hair and blue eyes. Not Peeta's. These features were sharply carved and harsh. Peeta Mellark wasn't capable of that kind of rage. His heart was far too soft for it.

Around the struggling pair other silver clothed girls leaped and rolled over the battlefield, loosing arrows and flinging perfectly balanced hunting knives into their opponents' chests.

Just as suddenly as they'd appeared the figures disappeared in thick puffs of smoke. The swirling flames died in an instant, and Katniss was left floating in the void of space. Distant stars twinkled in the background. Comets trailed sparkling clouds of dust, and the entirety of creation turned in an endless cycle.

Katniss stepped forward in the void. There was no sound, and silence dominated the vast expanse of nothingness.

Floating before her was a glassy orb. Painted across it's surface were greens and blues and browns. Wispy clouds dotted it like fluffed cotton. Billions of tiny fires flickered into life around the orb. Tiny pinpricks, the fires that burned within every human soul.

The little glass earth floated down into Katniss's open palm. She held it up to her face wonderingly. Still her eyes were unreadable. Slowly her grip began to tighten, the orb cracking between her fingers, sending shards of glass spinning outward into space. Across the earth's surface the fires grew into a terrible blaze that devoured the healthy green land.

Suddenly the huntresses eyes closed. Her grip slackened, and she pressed her lips to the marred orb.

Prim tumbled out of bed in a tangle of limbs and bed linens. Cold sweat drenched her clothes. Her hands shook, and nightmarish confusion wracked her mind.

That had been a dream unlike any she'd had before. What did it mean, why was Katniss on fire? Who was the girl Gale had been fighting? Why had Peeta been there? And why had the man in chains had the same eyes as the old beggar man? Prim found no answers in the stillness of her tiny bedroom. Buttercup nuzzled sleepily against her side. Her mind grew only more confused.

"If you're curious to know more, perhaps you want to help, then go to the forest with the hunter boy the next time he goes. A very old friend of mine will tell you more."

What the old beggar had meant she didn't know, yet the words resonated clearly in her thoughts. The idea alone was crazy, and yet Prim found herself deciding to heed his advice. Her dreams had meaning. Some deep, important meaning. And she had to discover what that meaning was.

Peeta felt the warm summer breeze tingle the hair on his forearms as it blew over him. He could hear the buzzing of the capitol around him, the whirring of hovercrafts and the chattering of people shattering the serenity of the rooftop garden. It had been surprising to learn the garden existed here of all places. Surely there were better places to plant an assortment of colorful flowers and trees. Needless to say, despite it's beauty the garden felt highly out of place.

However it felt, Peeta couldn't deny that there was a sense of solitude to the place. In the floors below someone was always watching. Cameras suspended in the corner of every room. Avoxes who doubtlessly had monitoring devices hooked up to them. The several hundred capitol employees who bustled about the place non stop.

Here though, there was no one. At least no one noticeable. Here it was possible to get some semblance of peace and quiet. Which was why it was odd that Haymitch had told him to meet him up here. It had been in the form of a hastily scribbled note taped beneath his dinner plate reading 'Rooftop 8:00 tell no one'.

The drunken mentor's message alone was enough to tell Peeta that the garden must be a secure location to talk. Even drunk Haymitch wasn't someone stupid enough to say incriminating things so openly. What Haymitch had to say to him however, Peeta could only guess. Most likely it was something to do with the games. But if that were the case why wasn't Katniss there as well? Perhaps Haymitch had decided to focus on him, and saw him as the better tribute. Fat chance of that. Katniss was a thousand times more likely to win than he was without trying. With a bow in her hands she was an efficient killing machine. She always got squirrels right in the eye and damaged none of the meat. It would be the same with human targets.

Apart from her prowess as a hunter, she was lithe and quick minded. If it came to it she could probably outrun any who tried to pursue her in the arena. That, and even if Peeta were to get her at knife point, she still had him beat. He could never hurt her. Even if it meant his own death. Sometimes a loving heart was a heavy burden indeed. Yes, it gave you the strength and the courage to carry on. But at the same time it held you down like chains. It made you see someone else as more important then yourself. And in a game like the Hunger Games, self preservation was all that mattered. Eventually all alliances were broken and a single person was left victorious.

If Peeta could bet, he'd bet on Katniss, and not only because he loved her. Because she was the best of them. And, unlike him, she had people back home who needed her.

"You came, good" Haymitch's gruff voice called from across the garden, shattering the boy's train of thought. He peered over his shoulder to see the mentor approaching with a half bottle of liquor in his hand. Luscious golden liquid sloshed around the thick green glass as he walked. Whatever it was, it was strong. It's thick aroma overwhelmed the scents of the flowers, and Peeta couldn't help but cough. "Suck it up, boy" Haymitch said, taking a seat beside him. He took a generous swig of wine, smacking his lips in ecstasy. His cool gray eyes stared off into the city. Distant and full of thought.

"So..." Peeta began. He wasn't sure what to say. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did" Haymitch confirmed. His fingers drummed along the bottle's neck. "Want a drink?" he offered placidly. Peeta shook his head. The mentor shrugged. "Your loss. Good stuff, this." For another few moments he simply sat there in contemplation. The finer points of his plan were starting to manifest in his mind's eye. It could work. It wasn't likely, but it was possible.

"Now," haymitch said. "Tell me, how long have you been in love with the girl? Katniss."

A rosy pink blush rose in the baker boy's cheeks.

"How did you-"

"It's not a secret" the mentor cut him off. "It's obvious. I see the way you stare at her. The way you held her hand at the opening ceremony. Now answer the question. How long?"

Peeta's blush grew ever deeper. This was beyond embarrassing. His feelings were so obvious that even the town drunkard could tell? If that were the case, Katniss might even know herself. Though that wasn't likely. She hadn't slit his throat yet, so his secret must be safe for now. Breathing deeply, Peeta answered.

"Since we were five." Haymitch nodded. Pensively he pursed his lips.

"That long, eh? And you haven't even talked to her until the train?" Peeta shook his head. "Thought so. She doesn't know of course, if that's what's worrying you. That one's about as emotionally dead as they come. Trust me, I should know." Again he took a swig of wine. "I'm going to be blunt, boy. Only one of you is coming out there alive, and it sure as hell isn't gonna be you. You're too soft. You care too much. You'll hesitate in a fight, and you'll die. That being said, the girl actually stands a chance, but only if I can get her decent sponsors. Sponsor gifts are your lifeline in the games. A single decent gift can be the difference between winning and dying In case you didn't know, our district doesn't get too many sponsors. Not a lot of corporations wanna endorse a dirt poor coal mining town. But you, boy. You've given me an idea, one that may just get the girl everything she needs and more. These capitol folks are saps for a bit of romance. They live for it. And we can give them there newest obsession. The star crossed lovers of district twelve."

Peeta's eyes widened. He was starting to understand now. The plan was obvious. Obvious and brilliant. Yet the idea of it alone felt like thousand needles piercing his heart.

"You want us to fake it" he said, more explaining it to himself aloud than clarifying with Haymitch. "Convince the audience were in love to earn sponsors. Get them to root for us." Haymitch gave a satisfied nod.

"Exactly. They'll eat it up. There's never been a love story in the arena before. None of the other mentors we'll see it coming. Everyone else is focused on the singular strategy. Every tribute is ultimately fighting for themselves alone, but you'll be a different case. A case they won't expect."

With each word Peeta's foreboding grew. He wanted them to fake it? Faking it would involve confessing his feelings, sort of. Or at least pretending to confess. That was probably one of the last things he wanted to do. Firstly, it would most likely involve him getting his heart broken. And secondly, he would inevitably die in the arena, possibly as a direct result of his proceeding confessions. That'd be a lovely way to die, wouldn't it? Killed by your spurned lover's raging desire to survive.

"Do we tell Katniss?" he asked quietly.

"No" Haymitch answered sharply. "We need a proper reaction from her, and we won't get it if she knows beforehand. After training's done it'll be time for the interviews. Use yours to show your feelings. It won't be hard, Caesar usually asks about that sort of thing. I've seen the way you've handled your stylists. You're good with people. Public speaking shouldn't be a problem for you."

"You want me to confess on national television?" Peeta asked incredulously. The answer was clear, but still he asked.

"Of course, boy. We need the audience's support to get sponsors. You two have to sell yourselves as a couple. So there it is," he said, swallowing the final mouthful of wine. "There's the plan. You help to get the sponsors and keep the girl alive until the end, then you can die whatever sort of noble death it is you have planned for yourself. Will you help or not? Answer quickly. We have to go all the way with this if it's going to work. There can't be any hesitation."

It took all of a second for Peeta to decide.

"I'll do it" he said at once. The plan was a grim one that involved his own demise. But it just might save Katniss. Haymitch raised a brow curiously.

"That was quick of you to throw your life away. Doesn't part of you want to win, to ditch my plans and go for the gold? Haven't you got a family to get back to?" These were probing questions, Peeta could tell. Haymitch was testing his willingness to follow the plan. Testing to see if he'd chicken out and fight for himself. He shook his head.

"They don't need me. Yeah," he said at the mentor's odd look. "When I die they'll me miss me, and I guess they'll grieve and be sad, but life will go on. Time will pass, they'll move on, and before long they'll have forgotten me like all the others who die in the games." His eyes closed. His hand tightened into determined fists. "Katniss doesn't have that. Her family needs her to survive. Hawthorne'll bring them what he can, but he can't support both their families, especially since he'll be starting in the mines after school gets out. Without Katniss, her mother and sister will die."

A long silence followed.

"You're a good man Peeta Mellark" Haymitch said solemnly. "It's a pity good men don't last long in the capitol. Most of them are fed to the mutts before they can inspire too much hope. Hope's far too dangerous to keep alive." He stood and moved back towards the garden exit. "Maybe you'll be the exception. Probably not, but it's a start."

Peeta watched him go before burying his face in his hands. He honestly couldn't tell which would be more difficult, revealing his feelings, expressing them openly, or staying alive past the Game's opening bloodbath. Only the next few weeks would tell. But of one thing he was certain. He would do whatever he could to make sure Katniss survived. Yes, it was stupid, foolhardy, and irrational. But such was the nature of love. And love was all he had to offer.

Not as long as I wanted, but I really wanted to get a chapter out before too long. Please be honest, are the chapters too short? In my other stories the chapters are between five and six thousand words, but for this one their between three and four thousand. Ending the chapter here is mostly okay with me, because it frames the story fairly well, but I still think it's way too short. Originally I had like two other scenes planned for this, but they involve too many time jumps of days and weeks before the games. Please Review! And please answer the question, I really want to know if I've botched this story in terms of chapter length (as you can probably guess I'm a bit self critical) Thanks! Review! Happy Reading!