"Do try to smile, Katniss" sighs Effie dramatically. "You're departing for your honeymoon. This is the happiest time of your life."

She says the last sentence in such an upbeat tone that you'd think she actually meant it. It still doesn't make me smile. Not yet. Once we're out in public I will play my part as best I can but there's no reason to do so just yet.

"I don't even know what a honeymoon is" I say sullenly.

"It's where newlyweds go on a month-long holiday together" chirps Effie. "Getting some time away together, celebrating their new marriage…" She pinches my chin with a smile. "Enjoying the marital bliss, if you get my drift… Wouldn't it be just lovely to be able to announce the impending birth of your first lovechild four weeks from now?"

In the corner of my eye I can see Peeta turning his face away, his jaw clenched. My face feels flush suddenly and I hate myself for reacting that way. I don't understand Effie Trinket. Does she realize that this marriage is a fraud? Does she honestly believe in the star-crossed lovers? Or does she think that marrying one another made us magically find true love?

"Now, I know you're both tired, not having gotten much sleep last night…" continues Effie, fussing with the collar of my coat.

Well she's right about that. I barely got any sleep at all, though not for the reason people would expect. I almost can't stop myself from snapping at her that there was no physical act to consummate the marriage but I hold my tongue. Peeta probably won't appreciate that I make it known to others that we aren't having sex yet, even though I would have let him sleep with me if he had wanted to. He might be determined to never take that step with me but I have a feeling Snow's determination is stronger than Peeta's.

"When you walk to the train put on your happy faces" says Effie cheerfully. "Look tired, but happy. That is absolutely perfect!"

"How long is this trip going to be?" asks Peeta.

"A month, dear. Aren't you listening?"

"A month?" He looks rather sceptical. "They're sending us away to do nothing at all for a full month? Why not just let us go back home?"

"You won't be doing nothing at all" smiles our escort. "You and Katniss will be having a lovely time."

"Sure… How many cameras will be on us?"

Effie averts her eyes and I can see that Peeta is getting annoyed. I'm not too happy either right now.

"I thought you said it was a private, romantic trip" I say.

"There won't be cameras in your bedroom" says Effie. "Haymitch had to pull some strings and throw a… giant fit… But there will be no cameras in the bedroom. Having a few cameras on you while you're outdoors is not so bad."

I look over at Peeta, feeling completely horrified. He's glaring at Effie, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

"Why in the world would they want to put cameras in our bedroom?"

Effie doesn't answer his question. She puts on a great big smile, walks behind us and ushers us closer to the doors while reminding us to smile and be as happy as only newlyweds can be. Happy is the last thing either one of us is right now. I'm mortified by the thought of Snow and his goons having wanted to film us in bed together. I couldn't live with the idea of other people watching Peeta and I have sex and I don't dare to think of what would happen if they found out we weren't having sex on our honeymoon.

"Right. Now." Effie claps her hands. "Happy smiles!"

It must be pure reflex or something because a smile appears on my face and I take Peeta's hand as the doors open. The next thing I know we're being ushered through a crowd of well-wishers, handed bouquets of flowers, being blown air-kisses. People are waving and yelling for us and everyone seems so excited. It's one of the most bizarre experiences yet. What empty lives these people must lead, to get so excited about seeing off a pair of young newlyweds as they embark on what is bound to be an excruciatingly boring trip. Several people reach out their hand to me and at first I think they want to shake my hand but it turns out they're actually interested in groping the wedding ring on my left ring finger. After the first four people have done so I refuse to reach out my hand again, feeling like they are invading my personal space too much when they finger the jewellery like it's a talisman. It's a relief when I feel Peeta's hand at the small of my back, ushering me towards the train. Once we are on board there's a slight ringing in my ears as the commotion is blocked out and there is only silence.

Peeta and I share a look. Neither one of us really knows what we're supposed to do now. He's the first one to move, walking away down a corridor without asking me to join him. I don't know where he's headed or if he even knows that himself. Maybe he just wants to be apart from me for a bit. We won't get much time away from each other this following month. Or really for the following lifetime.

I walk slowly down the same corridor, watching the city flash by as the train picks up speed. We're headed for District 4 for the first leg of the honeymoon and then we'll be in District 7. Apparently the beach is the perfect romantic setting and the woods of Seven offer privacy and recluse. That is of course one big joke as there will be cameras on us as soon as we leave the cottage that's being arranged for us but I guess we can bypass that by staying indoors for the most part. Yet I can't imagine being cooped up with Peeta inside a small cottage for what might be two weeks or more. I need my space and I think he needs his as well.

We don't see each other until it's dinner time. It's the longest we've been apart since we left District 12. A lavish table arrangement is waiting for us in the dining cart and with a rather large touch of disappointment I note that we're probably not going to be served any large portions of food. The table is so small that our knees might actually touch underneath the table and since the food has to compete for space with three vases of roses and a two candles in tall silver candlesticks there's not room for more than a small serving.

Since there are servants in the room Peeta puts on a smile and takes my hand in his. I manage a smile in return but I can't help but voice my immediate concerns.

"Where is the food going to go?"

"We'll find out, I guess."

We walk up to the table and he pulls out a chair for me to sit. When he takes his own seat opposite me our knees do in fact touch. There are four waiters in the room and they're all flocking around us which makes me nervous because we're going to have to try and carry out a believable conversation and I don't have the first idea what kind of things newlyweds like to talk about. Maybe I can just giggle a lot and bat my eyes and let Peeta do the talking.

After sparkling water has been poured for us and a tiny plate with the smallest slice of bread, garnished with tomato and basil, has been set in front of each of us Peeta turns to the head waiter.

"If you don't mind, Katniss and I would like to have some privacy." He gives me a suggestive smile. "We have… special things to talk about."

I blush and look away, which is probably a good response when I think about it, and the waiter nods his head.

"Yes of course."

After a minute or two all four of them have left, announcing that they will return in fifteen minutes with the main course, leaving Peeta and me to ourselves.

"This is not going to be a stilted month at all" comments Peeta in a tone that brings a small smile to my face.

"I thought the Capitol was all about lavishness and serving so much food you need to puke once or twice to gobble everything down" I reply, taking a sip from my glass of water.

"They didn't even give us any fine booze" notes Peeta. "At the wedding it was all champagne, all the time. Now we get water?"

"Sparkling water, dear."

He chuckles and I smile. At least for a moment it feels like normal between us. Then I look down at my piece of bread and the smile is gone.

"This thing wouldn't have fed me when I was two" I complain.

"Maybe it's a thirty-course meal?" suggests Peeta. He picks up the silver cutlery and makes a point to elegantly cut a small slice of his bread in the same way Effie Trinket would have. "Another Capitol tradition, perhaps? Kick of the honeymonth by having one course for each day you'll be gone."

"Honeymoon" I correct him.

"Married for a day and already you're a nag" jokes Peeta awkwardly and rolls his eyes as he puts the bread in his mouth. "Mmm… You can almost taste something."

I chuckle and grab my own slice of bread with my fingers and stick half of it in my mouth at once. It only takes a minute for us to have finished eating it and then we look around the room impatiently. My stomach growls and Peeta looks at the large mahogany clock on the wall.

"Just thirteen minutes till the next course, then."

"By the time they've served one full meal we'll have already digested half of it" I sigh.

We end up having a rather nice dinner, all things considered. Getting to be alone together without having to pretend and without having any pressure to do what married couples normally do we can both relax a little. They serve us meat and a salad for dinner and it tastes really good and there's enough food to make us full. They're still only serving us sparkling water and I don't understand why until they bring about desert. A plate of crackers and grapes is set out in-between us and then they set a plate with three kinds of delicious looking cheeses in front of Peeta. Nothing in front of me. The waiter moves to leave the room and I begin to realize that the cheese is for Peeta alone.

"Hey!" I call out. "Excuse me. How come I don't get any cheese?"

"It wouldn't be good for the baby, madam."

I don't know what offends me more – being denied food on account of a baby they seem to be presuming I'm carrying after only night of marriage, or being called madam at the age of seventeen.

"But I'm not pregnant!" I object.

"Don't know that for sure, madam."

He bows and leaves. I turn to Peeta, feeling absolutely furious and expecting him to feel the same way. He's leaned back in his chair looking sad, almost miserable, eyes fixated on a spot on the floor.

"Can you believe that?" I exclaim. When he doesn't answer I frown deeper. "Peeta!"

He looks up at me.

"This is what it's going to be like all the time. Every single time we eat something courtesy of the Capitol. The whole damn world crossing their fingers, studying your waistline."

"What? This is just Snow messing with us. It's got to be. There's no way I could be pregnant after only one night anyway."

"One night can be more than enough to conceive a child" replies Peeta and I would blush at that if I wasn't so mad.

"According to my mother the baby isn't necessarily conceived the same day as you have sex. Because the… you know, can just… I mean it doesn't always…" I make impatient gestures with my hands, trying to get my point across but clearly only confusing Peeta who looks at me like I'm in the middle of an insane mime show. Before the wedding my mother gave me a brief explanation to how to track my cycle which included informing me that semen can live for days inside a woman's body and conception can take place days after intercourse. It was one of the most awkward conversations of my life, even though I got that the point was that just tracking my cycle isn't a reliable method of birth control. I'm too embarrassed to say the actual words to Peeta so I keep trying to make him understand on his own. "The way guys work… The way girls work… You know what I'm trying to say!"

"What was in your water?" asks Peeta, clearly not having a clue what I'm talking about.

"Just forget it" I snarl. "It doesn't even matter."

"You brought it up."

I reach across the table and grab the plate of cheese. Peeta doesn't object, folding his hands on his lap and avoiding to look at me. The previous comfortable mood is gone and all I can think about, probably all both of us can think about, is what is expected of us. Becoming parents. Bearing children. Giving Snow sacrificial lambs for slaughter in the Hunger Games in a little bit more than a decade.

My children. My children with Peeta. I glance up at him while I stuff cheese into my mouth. I can't stop a sudden rush of curiosity. Having children is the last thing that I want but what would a baby by Peeta look like? A tiny little thing with curly ashen hair and big blue eyes? Having a child of mine that's fathered by him die in the arena would be the ultimate revenge from Snow, wouldn't it? Yes I saved Peeta but instead I have to watch a younger version of him, one I gave birth to, be killed in some horrible fashion while the whole country looks on.

"I used to want children" says Peeta suddenly. "Of course I've always known they could be reaped and all, but I like children and I would have liked to have some."

I stop chewing the cheese and fixate my eyes on him. I have a strong feeling he's about to tell me something about himself that he hasn't revealed to anyone yet. That he's about to let me in and bring us one step closer to one another. Then he looks a bit startled, as if remembering where we are and that just about anyone might be listening.

"I say we have at least a dozen" he declares with fake cheer. "After all, we have a big house and we know we'll be able to feed them."

"A dozen?" I exclaim, fully aware that we are now acting again but still rather taken aback. "There's no way I'm giving birth to twelve children. Not unless I get to do it at a hospital in the Capitol, numb from the waist down."

He smiles weakly at me and I return the smile. I make a mental note to someday find out what he was really going to say.

The house they have arranged for us in Four is located by the beach, ideally suited for long romantic walks along the shoreline at sunset and other such activities. The house itself is about half the size of the houses we live in in the Victors' Village, and about one third of it consists of an enormous bedroom. It doesn't make sense to me that such a large bedroom should be romantic or erotic because the large spaces seems to remove every bit of intimacy. Whatever intimacy might survive the size of the room is swiftly killed by the floor-to-ceiling windows that covers an entire wall, giving us a perfect view of the beach but also giving anyone walking by a perfect view of us. The first thing Peeta does is draw the large, red curtains shut so that nobody can see inside the room.

"Snuggly, isn't it?" he comments, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm going to go have a look around" I announce.

He shrugs and walks out of the room. I take my time exploring the house, finding I approve of the sunny kitchen and the actually quite beautiful sitting room. It too has floor-to-ceiling windows and it makes the room seem very bright and uplifting. Most of the furniture is either white or made of beech wood and/or glass and there are several vases with pink orchids around the room. I can imagine sitting here in the evenings, enjoying the view of the sunset. There's no fireplace which disappoints me a little but perhaps it would get too hot for a fire anyway.

There are two large glass doors that lead out to a back patio and I can see Peeta sitting there, watching the waves rolling in. We've arrived about an hour after lunchtime and the sun is bright in the sky. I find myself looking forward to evening and seeing the setting sun. It really is a pity that all of this is wasted on a couple who are only pretending at being newlyweds. If I ever did marry for love I wouldn't mind spending a month, or a year, in a house like this.

I press a button on the left door and it slides to the side, allowing me to step outside. My nose fills with the scent of sun-warm wood, sand and a faint smell of salt water. The sun seems brighter here than back home in Twelve and reflects off the sand same as it does with snow. I have to shade my eyes with my hand as I walk up to Peeta and take a seat next to him. There's a two foot gap between the patio and the sand so my feet dangle in the air. A few feet to Peeta's right is a set of steps that leads down to the beach below. Strangely enough the first thought that pops into my head is that I must remember to wear shoes when walking out here on the patio or else I'll probably get splinters.

"Hey" I say to Peeta, taking my hand down but squinting in the bright daylight.

"Hey" he replies.

"Liking it so far?"

"See those seagulls over there?" He points to a flock of birds circling about a hundred yards from where we're sitting. "I'm fairly sure one of them is actually a drone with a camera. It's got a mechanical way of moving and it's a lot more steady than the rest of them."

"You're either very paranoid or they're really putting effort into this" I say. "Probably the latter."

"I used to always wonder how they could film every single moment during the Games, until we were in the arena ourselves. I still haven't figured it all out but…" He looks at me. "Do you think our honeymoon is going to be broadcast? Or is it just Snow wanting to keep an eye on us?"

"Maybe that depends on our performance."

"Let's how they're not broadcasting live."

We sit in silence for a while, watching the waves come rolling in. It's remarkably peaceful and even though I know there are cameras tracking us when we're outdoors it still feels private compared to the huge circus in the Capitol.

Eventually Peeta rises, wobbling for a second before he finds his balance on his fake leg, and walks back inside the house. I follow him and we walk into the bedroom, closing the door behind us. Now we're alone for real.

"Did you notice all the large windows in this house?" asks Peeta.

"Hard not to" I reply dryly.

"How much do you want to bet that when they agreed not to put cameras indoors they instead chose this house so they could have the cameras outside but still capturing everything we do?" He snorts and shakes his head in frustration. "This room is our only sanctuary. Well, the bathroom also counts but… Whenever we're not in here we're going to have to be pretending." He sounds so irritated at first that when his look softens and his shoulders relax it takes me by surprise. "Do you want to try and make the best of it?"

"How do you mean?"

"No reason we can't try and have a good time while we're here. For instance, how good a cook are you?"

"Not very good" I say, frowning at the question. "You ought to know. You've tasted my food."

"I had no complaints in the arena" he smiles.

"You were as good as dead."

"Then how about we try to cook stuff together? That might be fun. I saw they have some board games out in the sitting room; that might be fun too."

"I could teach you to swim" I say spontaneously. He looks skeptical but the idea appeals to me. "We could spend our days out there in the water. It might actually be fun."

"Have you seen the waves?" he questions. "I'm not going anywhere near anything like that. Didn't someone at the dinner here during the Victory Tour talk about how people get caught in the undercurrent and dragged out to sea?"

"Not if you stay close to shore" I argue, though I'm not exactly sure.

"Still, seems safer not to."

"Coward" I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Anyway… Are we agreed? That instead of playing an exhausted charade all the time we give actual fun a try?"

"Just having a good time together isn't going to be enough" I point out. He walks over to the bed and sits down and I move a bit closer. "We should talk about the sex thing."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Peeta you know as well as I do that it's not going to work like that. You were there during dinner last night. You even cracked a joke about us having a dozen kids. Might as well just… accept it."

"There's got to be some way around it" argues Peeta, running a hand through his hair. "I can figure it out. I just need time."

"We may not have time." I walk up to him and stop just about a foot from the bed. "You know as well as I do that marriage won't be enough. Not in the long run. If we don't have babies people will start to wonder why."

"Do you want to have kids?" he questions, looking surprised.

"Not even a little bit. But I'm also not ready to face the consequences of not doing what is asked of us."

"Katniss…" He moves off the bed and stands right next to me, looking me deep in the eyes. "You know me. You know I can't do something like that."

"You know Snow" I reply, a slight tremble in my voice. "He won't let us get away with not having kids."

"Then I'll take full responsibility for not getting you pregnant. He can have me killed if that's what suits him. I'd prefer that to the alternative."

He walks away from me, out from the room, leaving me standing there with my mouth gaping, absolutely horrified. I knew Peeta was determined not to go through with what he perceives to be rape of me but I had no idea he would take it that far. I feel my heart pounding with fear at the thought of Snow killing him. I can't explain it to myself but I strongly feel I would rather risk sending a child into the arena than giving Peeta's life to prevent that from happening. I run to the door and call out to him just as he's about to go back outside.

"What was it all for, then?" I ask. He stops and looks at me, confused at the question. "If you're willing to die rather than to have children with me then what was the point of marrying me in the first place? Why not refuse that too and take Snow's wrath now?"

"The marriage was to buy peace, wasn't it? To save our families? I'm willing to hold out hope that by the time people will start to think it's strange that we're not expecting a baby yet they will have lost interest in us. Barring that I'm willing to take my chances that we might figure something out that can keep us from having to have children in the first place."

His hand reaches for the button that opens the door.

"You know, you can't go outside" I say. "Not without me. It will look strange if you go out alone just an hour or so after we've arrived."

"I'll bring you back some seashells or something. Something… romantic…"

He leaves and I sigh heavily, walking back inside the bedroom and throwing myself down on the large bed. I will not sacrifice Peeta to avoid having children. I just don't have a clue how to make him see things my way. If nothing else we need to have sex, at least once, because the doctors in the Capitol can check to see if you've lost your virginity. I heard Effie discuss it with Portia once, recalling an incident where a female tribute had accused her fellow tribute of raping her but an examination had proven she was a virgin. The story sickened me and the thought of such an examination scares me but not as much as the thought of what they might do to us, to Peeta, if we fail to fall in line.

He returns to the house after an hour and a half. By then I've left the bedroom and I'm busy searching through the kitchen to find what food they have stocked for us. To my surprise most of the cabinets are empty and the ones that aren't have things like sugar lumps and crackers. Nothing you can cook actual dinner from.

When Peeta walks into the kitchen I'm about to tell him what I've discovered but he holds out his fist to me and I look at it with confusion. He gives me a tired smile, opens his hand and I find a collection of seashells there.

"They were surprisingly hard to find" he tells me.

"Is that why you were gone an hour and a half?" I ask, hearing how much I sound like a nagging wife.

He doesn't answer. He takes my hand and gives me the seashells, then places a kiss on my jawline. He walks over to the sink and washes his hands while I stare at the shells, wondering what I'm supposed to do with them. This is considered a romantic gift? What is the purpose of the shells, exactly?

"What have you been up to?" asks Peeta.

"I've discovered that we don't have any food."

He turns the faucet off and reaches for a towel.

"What?"

"See for yourself. The cabinets are as good as empty. Nothing useful in any of them."

With a frown on his face he begins to search through the cabinets. He only opens two before deciding I must be right and he closes them with a groan.

"Great. What is this supposed to mean?"

"Do we have any fishing gear?"

"I don't even know what fishing gear looks like."

I can't make sense of this. They can't have forgotten to provide food for us. There must be something else going on here but I can't figure out what. I get a weird sense that we're back in the cave in the arena and that we have to perform to earn food. I look at Peeta and wonder what it might take. If I walk up to him and kiss him, pressing my lips to his for ten seconds or more, will that earn us dinner?

A knock on the door startles us both.

"Are we expecting… company?" asks Peeta.

"I sure hope not."

"Should I get it?"

Without waiting for an answer he walks to the front door and opens it. The next thing I know a whole crew of people walk inside, carrying tablecloths and silverware and numerous plates of what I sincerely hope is food, each one covered by a kind of silver dome that I suppose is meant to keep the food warm. None of them speak and they leave again after a few minutes, once they have arranged the table for us. Peeta and I stand on opposite ends of the room, watching with amazement and confusion as the scene unfolds. Once they're gone we look at each other and then hurry to sit down at the table.

"Is this what it's going to be like every night?" he wonders, lifting the dome off a plate at random. I feel my mouth watering when I see thick slices of meatloaf swimming in gravy. "There goes the idea of cooking together, then."

"On the other hand," I say, lifting another dome to find two small bowls of an orange colored soup, "this is bound to be ten times more delicious than anything we could concoct in this kitchen."

We lift off each of the domes and survey the meal prepared for us. There's soup, salad, meatloaf, potatoes, breadsticks that seem to fascinate Peeta a great deal, steaming hot vegetables and some form of yellow pudding.

"No fish" I remark. "And this is the fishing district."

Peeta furrows his brow as if trying to remember something.

"Remember what Effie said before the wedding… That night when we had those large fish that still had their eyes and teeth and basically everything?"

"I wasn't listening. There was fish to be had."

"No, she said something about a friend of hers who hated being pregnant because she couldn't eat fish. Something about mercury levels?"

"Mercury levels?" I echo. "Peeta if they're going to plan every single meal based on the assumption that I'm in the family way I'm going to lose my mind."

"Let's just eat" suggests Peeta. "There may not be fish but the stuff we've got looks delicious. Do you think it's lobster soup?"

Peeta developed a definite fondness for anything lobster during the Victory Tour. I lean over the bowls and sniff, shaking my head at him.

"Carrot."

"Right" he says. "Think lobster is bad for a fetus, too?"

The following two weeks turn out better than I had expected. The weather is good for the most part and we spend at least a few hours outside each day, with the exception of one day when the rain pours down. Peeta uses wet and moist sand to form shapes and figures, almost like small statues. On one occasion I actually do get him out into the waves. The hot sun and the setting means we're wearing little clothing and to my surprise it feels natural touching his sun-warm skin. My hands often find his broad chest and his often land around my waist. We kiss, we hug, we hold hands. It's always part of a performance and sometimes at night we lie awake and discuss what things we are going to do the following day.

One afternoon we lie down in the sand, a feet or two away from where the water is coming in because that is the only place where the sand isn't burning hot. We lie close together, hands intertwined, and I've begun to doze off when the tide begins to come in and a wave suddenly splashes over us. With a yelp I fly to my feet and back away, causing Peeta to laugh at my reaction. It's in moments like that, when we are spontaneous and honestly enjoying each other's company, that I feel we might actually have a chance at convincing even Snow that something real exists between us.

We spend a few hours every day in the bedroom, reading or napping. We spend time in the sitting room, playing games and cuddling on the couch for the benefit of the cameras that we can assume are filming us from outside. We sit together on the patio and many nights we take a walk together along the shoreline as the sun is setting over the ocean. We walk with our arms around each other's waist or shoulders, or sometimes holding hands. Sometimes I lean my cheek against Peeta's shoulder, which is really uncomfortable when he's walking but I assume it looks affectionate and romantic. We sit on the sand together once it's gotten dark, whispering together.

The whole two weeks I'm bored nearly to the point of tears and at the same time I'm careful to uphold the charade. It's exhausting and I can tell so clearly that all the feigned affection from me takes a huge toll on Peeta. He never complains but sometimes when I'm kissing him or caressing his cheek or smiling lovingly at him I can see in his eyes a glimmer of what I think is hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, it's not an act on my part. Then always follows another look when he seems to remind himself that it never will be more than an act and that look is difficult for me. There are times when I think I can feel something a lot more real for him, moments when a look from him or a touch from him invokes a warmth and pleasurable sensation deep inside of me, but those moments are rare. I don't think genuine emotion can stand a chance at surfacing when we're constantly feeling like two actors in a play.

When we finally receive word that we are to pack our bags and get ready for two weeks in District 7 it feels like a relief. We're halfway there. In another two weeks we will get to go home and we can live life for real.