And here is the epilogue:

I pause for a moment after I place the 12th candle on the cake. A 12th birthday today means a lot less then it did when I was that age, thank god. I cross the kitchen and open the top drawer by the stove. I reach in and pull out a large knife to cut the cake with later. Before I set the knife down on the counter however, I consider the blade for a second. I haven't used a knife for anything other than cooking for about 13 years. I'm surprised by how familiar it still feels. This one is large but thin with a sturdy handle, just the way I used to like them. Almost subconsciously, I feel my palm slide up the blade and get a firm grip on it. Without really thinking, I raise the knife up, aim at a small dark spot on the wall and let the knife go. I watch as it rotates before hitting the stain on the wall dead-center.

"You still got it." My head whips around to see Cato standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"I didn't know you were there." I tell him, wondering what his reaction will be. We decided a long time ago that there would be no weapons or other game-related things anymore. Cato lets out a short laugh before saying,

"You always looked so hot throwing those knives." Now it was my turn to laugh.

"You didn't look so bad yourself handling that sword." Cato grins at my comment as he walks over to the knife in the wall. He pulls it out and walks back, handing it to me. Suddenly feeling a bit guilty, I say quickly,

"That was the only time I've ever done that." Cato gives me a little nod before changing the subject.

"So tonight?"

"Yes."

"Are we just going to tell her or show her the videos?" Cato asks.

"I was planning on just talking about it today and then letting her see the videos tomorrow if she wants to."

"She will." Cato says.

"I know," I sigh, "I just don't want her to. I keep hoping she'll say no." Cato steps behind me and puts his arms around me. I gladly lean my back against his chest as he says,

"It's for the best. We have to tell her at some point. I'd rather her hear the whole story from us then from someone at school."

"You're right." I reply, "Where is she now?"

"Still at a friends." Cato tells me. Cato sees the cake and proceeds to slide his finger through the frosting on the top then lick it off his pointer finger.

"Cato!" I scold, more amused then angry. He really is always the source of my problems.

"No one will notice." He responds, smirking with his finger still in his mouth.

I'm just lighting the candles as I hear the front door open. My now 12-year-old daughter says, "Mom? Dad?" from the entry hall.

"In the kitchen!" I shout back so she knows we're home. Her tall, slender frame slides into view as she enters the room.

"Happy birthday!" Cato says before starting to sing the birthday song completely off-key, which I join in on, not sounding much better. When we finish, she blows out the candles, eyes closed shut as she makes a wish. The afternoon continues as she opens presents and has a few friends over for cake. Once the celebrations are over we sit her down in the living room to tell her everything. She already knows bits of what happened, but there is a lot more that we need to say. She knew that the Hunger Games had existed before she was born and she knew that Cato and I had won them. She also knew that there was an uprising which ended the games, but she didn't know that Cato and I had been in the same year or that we had been trained. She knew nothing about out actual games and so, as it seemed fitting since it was her 12th birthday, we told her the specifics of our past. She mainly sat there quietly, occasionally twisting her light brown hair. As Cato predicted, she wanted to see the games which we showed her the next day. She took it all rather well, although I don't know if she'll ever see us in the same way after watching us torture the boy from District 10. We explained to her the time in-between as well. Cato and I seem quite a bit more human if one talks about our lives since the games.

After getting off the train and reuniting with our parents, we stood together in front of the Victor's Village houses which we would soon live in. I had always dreamed of this moment, returning home and living in the most luxurious house. But standing in front of them, I just felt small. Cato and I went to his old house first and started carrying his items over to the first of the two homes. After four trips, we had brought the bulk of it to the house so we went to get my belongings. My parents were inside and as we stepped into the house, I wasn't sure what to think. It felt so different, like an other person had lived here. My room seemed unfamiliar as I packed away clothes, jewelry, and other possessions. We transferred my things into the first house as well, still undecided as to what we should do with the extra one. We made the last trip to our new home and I went back with Cato to my old house to make sure I had everything. My dad was in the living room when we walked in and he told Cato to wait a minute because he had something of his. Confused, Cato and I waited downstairs while my father went up to his room to get something. He returned with a tie in his hands and I'm not sure why, but I wanted to cry. I started to laugh instead. The tie that Cato had left at my house before the games. The one with the C on it that I told my dad stood for Clove. Once Cato realized what it was, he started laughing as well.

"How did you..." I started, but my dad cut me off.

"Oh Clove, I didn't believe you for a second. 'The C on it is so everyone knows you're my dad.' Please, I'm not that thick. I just wore it to see how you two would react." Cato sheepishly took the tie back and we left.

"So do you think our parents knew?" I asked Cato, who turned and said,

"I think everyone knew." Well, that probably was true. We weren't very good at being subtle.

The new house was amazing. Everything was so big and nice. The only downfall was the telephone. We would get calls from the Capitol trying to 'keep in touch' with us.

One thing that came with being a victor was being forced to pick up a hobby. Cato's came to him right away: writing. He always had a certain way with words. He enjoyed writing. Sometimes I would find little poems for me tucked around our house. Or he would ask me to read over some five-page description of a single second from the games. Those were my favorites. On a sheet of paper he was able to capture all the feelings of the arena. They were incredible. I would read anything he handed me. It comforted me to see his messy scrawl fill up page after page. It took some effort to find a talent for me other than knife-throwing. Someone re-watched our games and came to the conclusion that I should try acting since I had gotten through most of the games by lying. It was a good fit. At first I was hesitant and hated having to memorize lines, but eventually I loved being able to pretend to be different characters. It was a great escape from being myself. And so Cato would write and I would recite. That's how it went.

Six months after the games, we were sent on our Victory Tour. The tour was quite anticipated as it would end with Cato and I getting married. Now, when Cato had proposed we were both under the impression that we would get married when we were older, maybe in four or five years, not right away. But of course we had no say in it and Snow planned an all-out wedding for us back in District 2. I remember hearing the wedding procession music start to play and wanting to run out in my over-the-top Capitol gown. The only reason I didn't try to escape was the fact that despite everything seeming so wrong, Cato was the one standing at the alter. So with only my feelings for him in mind, and nothing else, I said, "I do."

We were asked to mentor the Quarter Quell, which we refused. We could not, however, refuse going to the Capitol the following year as President Snow had summoned us to join him for a 76th annual Hunger Games party at his mansion. It was there that he pulled me aside and informed me that I was to have a child because that was what the public wanted. I didn't even protest but he still warned me about what could happen if I did not obey. He reminded me how Cato and I were a popular couple in the Capitol and therefore not in demand to be sold as some victors were. He also stated that should one of us no longer be around, the other would be fair game for the citizens' 'enjoyment.' I told Cato everything that Snow had said to me and so we had no choice but to try for a baby. When the Victory Tour stopped by District 2 that year President Snow was on board and was not pleased to see me with a flat stomach. I told him that we really had been trying so he sent me to a doctor. In the stuffy room, I was told that I couldn't conceive because of the injury I suffered in the games. I was a bit relieved really. I still couldn't imagine myself as a parent. Cato was more affected by it. Underneath his hard exterior, I could tell that the soft side of him wanted kids someday.

Just before the 77th Games, rumors of a rebellion started to spread. They were just whispers at first, but during the 78th annual Hunger Games, the Capitol was bombed. In District 2, the district most loyal to the Capitol, few knew what was going on. For some reason the Capitol targeted Victors who, one by one, started to 'disappear.' A previous Victor named Lyme got in contact with Cato one day and Cato rushed home, telling me to pack. Neither of us knew where we were headed to, but we both knew if we stayed put, we would probably be dead in a manner of days. A hovercraft appeared outside of our home that night and we quickly got in, hoping to get away unscathed. While flying we were told that we would be taken to a safe-house of sorts in District 13. I still remember Cato's shocked face when that was said. District 13 had been destroyed almost 80 years ago, it didn't seem possible. And yet it was. We landed in a foreign area and were taken underground where all the inhabitants resided. Cato and I were both put into a soldier training program which I opted out of. I wasn't ready to kill again. I did spend some of my time knife throwing, though that was more of a comfort than anything else.

Cato was assigned to a mission a few weeks after we had arrived. I didn't want him to go and practically begged on my knees for him to stay. I couldn't lose him. His mind was made up though, he wanted to help defeat the Capitol. As he turned to leave, I called out to his receding figure, "I'm pregnant." That was enough to make him stop in his tracks. "But I thought that wasn't possible." He had said. "Well, I am. I'm not lying." And I wasn't. I'm not sure how it happened, but I was pregnant despite being told it was impossible. I showed Cato the test I had taken earlier that day and it convinced him to stay. I didn't know what to feel about being pregnant, but Cato was thrilled. He had accepted that we couldn't have kids, but I knew that he had wanted some at one point. We were still young, 23 and 24, but at least the second time around we weren't in the Hunger Games. Cato, with his remarkable way with words, convinced me that everything would be fine. The Rebellion raged on as my stomach got bigger and Cato suggested we name our son Troy. I reminded him, again, that there was a 50% chance he was a she, but no, Cato just knew. So, of course, we had a daughter, who I named Troy, just to tease Cato really. The Rebellion ended a week before Troy was born and it was a relief to know that our daughter would never have to fear the Reaping. We decided it was for the best for Troy to grow up not knowing about the Games. Of course she heard things from friends, but she didn't find out the whole truth until we told her ourselves.

Life went on. Troy grew up. And somehow we led normal lives with a couple of knives and swords thrown in there. As everything went our way, it seemed like the odds had been in our favor all along.

That's it. I have one more chapter, but that is it for Clove's story. No more writing in her perspective. I am so blessed to have such amazing readers who review all of my chapters and have stuck with the story for so long. I cannot thank you enough. I mean it when I say that this story would not have happened without you. As it is my final chapter as Clove, I would really love it if you could send me a review, it would mean a lot to me.

I have to say that I have really become attached to the characters while writing and I want to tell all my readers that you should really give writing a try. I never thought that I would write fanfiction, but I just had this idea one day and it wouldn't go away. This story literally was started on the back of an envelope and continued into 2 notebooks and 32 documents. I will have a hard time saying goodbye to Clove, as I have really felt that I became her in a way. It's so strange writing for a character that you admire so much and I'm sorry if I made her too much like myself. I have said it before, I write Clove as myself and what I would do in that situation. So, I hope that you will find Clove or another character in yourself one day and write it down.

Thank you all and I will see you soon in my last update.