Hello, old friends. It's been a while.

…..

Our last stop before going home to prepare for dinner is my house - well, my mother's house, I guess. For some reason it feels like it's been forever since I've been here, even though it was just yesterday. For the first time, I knock on the door to request entrance to my own Victor's house.

My mother answers the door, and she gives me a look of disappointment and anger. I thought we had left things off at a good place the day before, so I'm not sure what's happened to change her mood so completely. I choose to ignore it for now, and simply say, "Hi Mom, can we come in for a minute?"

"Yes, I believe we have a lot to talk about," she says. I'm wracking my brain as my mother leads us into the living room and we all sit down. What have I done since yesterday to bother her this much?

Everything falls into place as soon as I see Hazelle come in from the kitchen. "She already told you, didn't she?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," Hazelle says, breezing into the room. "I didn't realize nobody knew yet. I just assumed that if Gale knew, everyone else must know as well."

"Gale just happened to be at the house when we decided, that's why he knew before everyone else," Peeta explains.

"Well, congratulations, you two," Hazelle says, giving us each a warm hug. I'm grateful for one person who seems to be genuinely happy for us, but when we separate the stern expression on my mother's face hasn't changed.

"When were you planning on sharing the news?" my mother asks with acid in her voice.

I can feel my brow knit together as my gaze settles into a glare. I'm not a fan of her renewed hostility. "Why do you think we came over?"

"Are you already working on dinner?" Peeta asks, trying to cut the tension. His question makes me realize that I can smell food cooking. "We're having everyone over to our house later for the toasting."

"I thought you two have enough going on today without worrying about cooking for everyone. Consider it my wedding gift to you," Hazelle says.

I sigh, knowing that this is a gift I can't refuse now. Even though this meal was undoubtedly made with food from my mother's stocks, Hazelle's time spent cooking, time that could have been spent on washing for her clients in town, or mending the worn clothes of her four children, her time has enormous value. And there's no way I can give it back. Still, I say, "You didn't have to do that, Hazelle."

"That's what makes it a gift, dear," she explains patiently. Hazelle is used to my discomfort with gifts, and I have too much respect for her to really fight her on this. "Do you know how many I'm cooking for?"

I make a quick count in my head. "Um… As many as seventeen, depending on who shows up."

This gives my mother another chance to scoff. "You don't even know who's coming to this wedding?"

"We've had some less than firm commitments from some people," Peeta cuts in before I can snap at her.

"Will you be there?" I ask.

Mom seems to think for a moment before answering. "I haven't been invited yet."

I'm done. "Can you drop the petty sniping? I already had to deal with Peeta's mother today." This earns a chuckle from Peeta and a scowl from my mother. Clearly she doesn't like being compared to the town witch. I notice that Hazelle has disappeared back into the kitchen. "What happened to yesterday, when you had accepted that I was capable of making choices for my own life?" As if I hadn't already been doing it for the last five years, I manage not to say out loud.

"What happened to not rushing into things?" she counters.

"We're not rushing things. This just… felt like the right time," I say.

"You don't think this is a little quick? You just met two months ago."

Why did my mother acquire an Effie Trinket-like sense of propriety at the same time that she suddenly decided to act like she has any say in my life? The combination is incredibly wearying. I don't bother to try to explain to her all the complexities of what Peeta meant to me even before the Games or how our relationship developed in the Games. Instead I just say, "We're in love and we're going to be together for the rest of our lives. Isn't that enough? What else are we supposed to be waiting for exactly?"

Unsatisfied with my response, she turns her attention to Peeta. "I must say, I had expected better from you, Peeta. What made you think it was appropriate to propose marriage so quickly?"

Peeta squirms for just a moment before I answer for him. "Peeta didn't propose," I say. "It was my idea to get married."

"Your idea?" My mother is shocked.

"Yes," I say. "We were having lunch with Gale and I told Peeta that I wanted to get married and that I wanted to do it today."

"Why would you do that?" she asks me.

"Because I wanted to get married," I say.

"But you never wanted to get married!" she says.

I've had this conversation too many times with Gale today to have it again with my mother now. Instead I close my eyes and begin massaging my forehead. "Not you too…"

"Katniss-"

I stand up, dragging Peeta with me. "Is Prim upstairs?" I ask.

"Why do you need Prim?" my mother asks.

"Because I'm sick of having to justify myself to everyone!" I say. "I want to go talk to someone who will just be happy that I'm happy." Even as I'm saying it, I change my mind. I don't want to talk to anyone, I just want to go home, and even after only a day the house I now share with Peeta is more my home than this house ever was. "You know what, forget it. I'll see Prim later. At least I can count on her coming to my wedding." My mother purses her lips, but doesn't say anything. "Show up, don't show up, whatever. Do what you want, Mom. It's not like you've ever really been there for me anyway; why should my wedding be any different?" I call out a goodbye to Hazelle as I swiftly exit, dragging Peeta behind me.

We don't say anything as we walk back to our house. Once inside, I don't resist when Peeta guides me to one of the couches in the living room. "Let's just sit for a minute, okay?" I let out a loud noise as I throw myself onto a couch, it begins as a grunt but somehow becomes a growl and then a scream of frustration by the time I finish exhaling. Peeta sits beside me mutely and I move over to lean into his body. I take several minutes to just enjoy the closeness, his body pressed against mine, his arm draped across my back. I try to let the sensation drive away my anger and frustration at my mother, but it doesn't really work. I let out another groan.

"Is she right?" I finally ask. "Are we doing this too quickly?"

Peeta is quiet for a long moment. "Do you think we're making a mistake?" he finally asks.

Ugh. I'm always doing this; letting my confused words make Peeta think the worst. I can tell I take him by surprise when I grab his face and kiss him as hard as I can. It's quickly become my go-to move when I can't explain myself. Peeta doesn't seem to mind; I can feel him smiling against my lips as his other arm snakes around me to hold us closer together.

"I can't imagine ever wanting to be anywhere but right here," I tell him once we separate.

"On this couch?" he asks.

"In your arms," I say.

I feel Peeta tighten his embrace for just a moment as he kisses my forehead. "I never want to be anywhere but by your side," he says, and my whole body fills with warmth at his sentiment. I can finally feel some of my frustration starting to ebb away. "So what's bothering you?" he asks.

It takes me almost a full minute to try to put my thoughts into words. "We've been married for an hour and I feel like we're already screwing it up."

"Well, neither of us has had an affair yet, so I say so far, so good," Peeta says, and despite everything else I'm feeling he manages to drag a laugh out of me. Still, I nudge him in the ribs. "So how do you think we're screwing up?" he asks.

I sigh. "Well, for one thing, the only person we've actually been able to tell about it is Haymitch. Everyone else seems to find out accidentally: Gale only knows because he was here, the Undersees only found out because they performed the ceremony, the Hawthornes were told by Gale, my family was told by Hazelle, and your family was told as part of a rebuttal to your mother, just to stop her from suggesting her favorite harpy from town for the job!"

My voice has steadily risen as I was talking, and by the end I'm almost shouting again. Peeta doesn't respond to my outburst at first, he just rubs my back for a bit and kisses my head again. After an extended silence he finally says a name. "Ivy Kendall."

"What?"

"Ivy Kendall," he repeats. "That's my mother's preferred harpy from town."

I think for a moment, for the time being embracing Peeta's blatant attempt to change the subject. "I don't think I ever knew her in school."

"She was in our year," Peeta says. "Her parents run the apothecary shop in town."

The apothecary shop? I jerk away from Peeta so I can look him in the face, to make sure he's not making this up. He looks concerned, whether at my sudden action or the look on my face. "You're joking," I say.

"No, I'm not," he says, still concerned. "She never objected to the idea of me dating someone else from town, but she's always pushed me to try to get close to Ivy. I actually did talk to her in school a bit, just to appease her."

I can't help it, I burst out laughing. It's not just the idea of Peeta's mother trying to fix him up with the apothecary's daughter, but that on the tail end of everything, that after our encounter with Mrs. Mellark today, that after our encounter with my mother earlier, it's like a dam's broken inside of me. I can't stop laughing. I'm crying with laughter. I'm hysterical with laughter. I'm laughing so hard that Peeta is actually concerned for my well being, he keeps asking if I'm okay. I try to nod to him, but somehow the look of concern on his face only makes me laugh harder.

It's a good few minutes before I get my laughing under control, and another minute before I can breathe more or less normally. "Katniss, what's going on?" Peeta asks, worry heavy in his voice. It's almost enough to set me off again.

"Peeta, you know my mother grew up in town, right?"

"Yes…" he says, still unsure where I'm going.

"Peeta, her parents ran the apothecary shop," I tell him.

Peeta's whole face goes slack. He manages to get out an astonished, "No…"

"This Ivy Kendall, she's probably my cousin. My real cousin," I say to differentiate her from the Hawthornes. "Odds are her parents are my aunt and uncle."

"And you don't know any of them?" Peeta asks, and I realize that maybe he doesn't know as much of my family history as I thought he did after he told me about his father and my mother.

"When my mother married a coal miner from the Seam, her town family completely disowned her. She never had contact with her parents again," I explain. "I don't even know if she had a brother or a sister, or if her birth name was Kendall or not, so I don't know if it's Ivy's mother or father that's my mother's sibling. But I'm betting one of them is."

"Wow," is all Peeta can say. I don't have a response. After a moment, Peeta shakes his head a bit and speaks again. "It was her father. I think. Who was related to your mother, I mean. When I was really young, before Ivy's parents took over the shop, the man who ran it was called Old Man Kendall. Ivy Kendall's father was Old Man Kendall's son, and I guess your mother's brother." Peeta looks away from me and shakes his head again. "So you're Old Man Kendall's granddaughter. Wow."

I don't know any of the people Peeta is talking about, and I don't really care about who my relatives are at the apothecary; they wanted nothing to do with me because they refused to accept my father, and anyone who had a problem with my father isn't worth my time. I didn't even go to the apothecary for help when Prim and I were dying. The actions of Mrs. Mellark, however, fascinate me. "I just can't get over it," I say. "Your father wanted to marry the apothecary's daughter, but she ran away with a coal miner, so he married your mother instead. And now your mother has been trying to pair you up with the apothecary's daughter?"

"Apparently," Peeta says. His face is still slack, his eyes are not focused on anything currently in the room with us.

"What would her father have thought of that?" I wonder out loud. "His daughter, together with the son of the man his sister refused. And what was your mother trying to do? Did she think you'd fall for the apothecary's daughter like your father did? Was it some kind of sick joke? Was it just a coincidence?"

Peeta seems to come back to reality; he turns and looks straight at me. "I don't want to know," he says emphatically. "My mother has done plenty of crazy things to my life, and this certainly ranks up there, but I don't want to know what her reasons were. I don't want to know what goes on in that woman's head." Peeta takes my face in both of his hands and kisses me passionately. I moan into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck and melding myself into his body. When we break apart, Peeta says, "We're together now. I don't care what came before, I don't care what my mother was trying to do. You and me, that's all that matters."

I smile at my husband. "You and me," I agree, before kissing him again.

Eventually we break apart, and Peeta backs away a bit. "As much as I'd love to spend the rest of the day sitting here kissing my beautiful wife, I really do need to get started on our cake."

"We can do without a cake," I say, and try to kiss him again, but Peeta stops me.

"Oh, no," he says, "after all these years of decorating everyone else's cakes, there's no way I'm not making my own wedding cake."

"You'd rather bake a cake than kiss me?" I ask, and I do my best to pout.

Peeta just grins at me. "Wow. Katniss Everdeen: Temptress. Never thought I'd see that." I blush at his description, but I smile as well. "I'll gladly spend the next hundred years kissing you," he says as he stands, "but for the next few hours I have to work on something else." Then he turns and heads to the kitchen before I can object again.

I sigh, and follow Peeta into the kitchen. "Can I help?"

"No!" he says cheerfully. "You can't see the cake until we serve it tonight."

Peeta is so excited about this cake, I don't even try to fight him on it. Instead I busy myself with making sure the rest of the house is prepared for later; tidying up the living room for the toasting, preparing the dining room for dinner.

At one point Peeta pops in from the kitchen. "What kind of bread do you want to use for the toasting?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Just regular bread."

Peeta pauses for just a moment before asking again. "I wasn't sure if maybe you wanted to use a raisin-nut loaf."

I ponder this for a moment before shaking my head. "No. That'd be wrong."

This seems to intrigue Peeta. "Wrong?"

I try to answer, but I fumble for the right words. "I'm not sure if I can explain it right," I finally say before plowing along. "I don't- I owe you so much, I owe you my life. But this isn't some sort of debt payment. I didn't marry you because you gave me bread, or because you fought Cato, or because you help me with the nightmares. I married you because I love you. And I love you because…" I run out of words again. I completely denied the possibility of love until a month ago, now I'm supposed to be able to explain it? "I don't know, because you're you. Not because of anything you did, because of who you are." Ugh. Why does it feel like I'm always trying to explain things I don't fully understand myself? "I just feel like, toasting with the same bread you gave me that day would make it seem like I'm marrying you because you saved me. And that's not the way it is."

I can't imagine that Peeta actually understands what I'm trying to say, because frankly I barely understand what I'm trying to say, but he nods as if he does. "So just a regular loaf? Nothing special?"

There's disappointment in Peeta's voice, but I nod back at him, because he's right, that's exactly what I want. "The bread's not the thing that makes our toasting special," I tell him. He just nods again and leaves back into the kitchen.

I let out a breath. The feeling that I've disappointed Peeta eats at me. I want to fix it, to follow him into the kitchen and say something to make him feel better, but I have no idea what that would be. So I stay where I am.

Eventually people begin to arrive. The first are Hazelle and Prim, both laden down with pots and dishes of food. I feel bad all over again that Hazelle has gone to so much trouble for me. They both give me hurried greetings over their shoulders as they head to the kitchen to drop off their loads. Hazelle comes back out almost immediately to hug and congratulate again before returning to the kitchen.

Prim stays in the kitchen for quite some time. I'm beginning to feel annoyed that everyone is in there but me when Prim comes out. She almost tackles me with the force of the hug she gives me. "I can't believe you're getting married! You have to tell me everything!"

Prim grills me on every detail of my impromptu marriage. It doesn't seem like much of a story to me, but it puts a huge smile on her face, and seeing Prim smile like that puts one on my face as well. Eventually Peeta joins us - "The cakes are in the oven; Hazelle has a handle on things in the kitchen." - and has more to say on the subject than I do.

Prim doesn't share our mother's surprise that the marriage was my idea. "I always thought that when you got married, you would be the one to suggest it. Whoever you were with would have to be pretty stupid to spring it on you by surprise, and I didn't think you'd be with someone stupid," she says. Peeta laughs out loud at her statement, and even I smile a bit. Then she adds, "Of course, there was always a chance that Gale would have done it anyway."

I'm so sick of having this conversation today that I'm regretting having guests over for the toasting at all. "Was I the only one who knew I wasn't going to marry Gale?"

"I think so, dear," Hazelle says, just entering the room. I cringe a bit, knowing she heard my outburst. I haven't even thought of what Hazelle might be thinking or feeling. Here she is cooking a meal to serve at my toasting; did she expect me to marry her son one day? Is she surprised I'm not? Is she disappointed? Hazelle isn't quick to anger like Gale and I are, but she has an iron will – she and her four kids wouldn't have survived the death of her husband if she didn't.

"Those cakes of yours look like they're about ready to come out," she says to Peeta as she approaches the couches where we're all seated.

"Cakes?" I ask, turning to Peeta. How many of the things is he making?

Peeta just smiles at me. "Back to work," he says, planting a quick kiss on my lips before leaving again. Hazelle takes a seat next to Prim.

Prim looks quickly between Hazelle and I before standing. "I'm going to see if I can give Peeta a hand," she says before leaving for the kitchen. She's always had more tact than I do.

I huff out a breath. "I don't know what Gale told you…"

"Gale rarely tells me anything," Hazelle says in a resigned tone. "Thinks he's being a burden, I suppose. But it's okay. A mother always knows."

Inside, I scoff. I can't help but think about my own mother, and how little she seems to know me. Hazelle probably knows me better. Which makes sense, since in the past few years I've probably spent more time with Hazelle than with my own mother.

But Hazelle did know, I realize. "At dinner the other night, you knew what was going to happen."

"I warned that boy he was headed for a heartbreak," she says. "He insisted it was all an act, that you would never fall for Peeta Mellark. Wouldn't hear a word spoken otherwise."

"He still insists that," I say. Hazelle just shakes her head at Gale's obstinance.

"To tell you the truth, I'm kind of relieved," she says. This brings me up short. She's relieved? Here I am thinking of her as practically a surrogate parent, and she's relieved we didn't wind up related for real? My questions must show on my face, because she quickly explains. "Gale may have wanted a marriage, but I could tell that you never did. I've never once seen you look at my Gale the way you look at that boy in the kitchen."

I can feel myself flush with embarrassment at how easily she can read me, and how obvious I am whenever I'm around Peeta. I quietly ask, "If that's all true, then why did you think we'd wind up married?"

Hazelle sighs lightly. "Because what else were you going to do?" she says, her voice tinged with sorrow and resignation. "Once you aged out of the reapings, you would have needed to find some legal work. You wouldn't have both gone to work in the mines separately when you could have teamed up so that only one of you had to go. Plus Gale would need a wife so he could be assigned his own house and not be crammed in with the rest of us anymore, and I don't think for one second you would have let him marry some other girl. You would have convinced yourself that it was just an extension of your hunting partnership, and you would have married him."

The horrible thing is, Hazelle may well be right. When I think back to how I approached things before the Games, I could see myself doing just that. I never wanted to get married, but it wasn't the signing of the document I opposed. I never wanted children, and I never wanted to be weakened by love like my mother was. I saw avoiding marriage as a way to survive, but what if the opposite became true?

Gale is my best friend. I am his. We've been fighting together for our families' survival for years. Would I be willing to marry him if I somehow saw it as a part of that fight? Not have children, not fall in love with him, but just marry him? The answer is obvious: I'd do anything to protect my family.

But it wouldn't have ended there. Gale would want a real marriage. Gale would want me to love him. Gale would want children. Could I have ever given him those things?

Children would be absolutely out of the question, I never would and never will have a child who would have to enter the reaping. But what about the rest? I try to mentally place myself into that situation. What would my life be like if I was never reaped, if I never met Peeta. More importantly, what would I be like? Could I have grown to love Gale eventually? Or would the anger and division of this morning have happened to us anyway, growing slowly over time rather than exploding into being?

In my gut, I know the answer. I've known Gale for four years now. It took me all of one month to fall in love with Peeta. Even excepting the extraordinary circumstances surrounding my relationship with Peeta, if I was ever going to feel something for Gale I would have felt it by now. Two more years and a marriage of convenience wouldn't have turned friendship into love.

Hazelle seems to have come to the same conclusion, despite the fact that I haven't given voice to any of my thoughts. "You would have both been miserable," she says. "You can't go into a marriage with two people wanting such different things. He would want you to love him and you would just be trying to survive. Even if you grew to love him later, it wouldn't be how he wanted it. He would be disappointed and you would feel guilty for it. You would have both been miserable."

I find myself nodding, because Hazelle's thoughts align with my own. "Do you think he'll come today?"

"I don't know," she says. "I made him promise to walk the kids over later, I don't want them walking through town on their own. But will he stay? I don't know."

I don't know what to say to that. Gale's been my friend and partner for years. I've never really given thought to a time when that would not be the case, but it seems my falling in love with someone else has made the unthinkable into reality.

"I never meant to hurt him," I say.

Hazelle sighs before responding. "Sometimes people get hurt, and there's nothing we could have done to prevent it and it's nobody's fault. But they still hurt." I find myself nodding along with her. I have to admit to myself that I have no control over this situation. Gale will either come around or he won't. The only thing I could do to placate him would be to deny how I feel about Peeta and string Gale along for a while. Ultimately it's better this way, with all truths out in the open. And if Gale ends our friendship over it… well, I guess this would have happened anyway.

Hazelle and I seem to have run out of things to say. We've been silent for several minutes when the front door slams open and someone can be heard stumbling their way into the entrance hall. I just shake my head at the commotion, but Hazelle looks genuinely startled. "That's just Haymitch," I say.

I make sure I hear the door close behind Haymitch before he appears in the room with us. His look has definitely deteriorated since the Capitol attendants went home: His untucked shirt is wrinkled like he just grabbed it off the floor, and there's a large stain on his pants where he spilled some kind of red drink. But he at least appears to have washed himself, if the large damp patch where his hair hits his shirt is any indication.

Compared to the first night on the train when he passed out in a pool of his own vomit, he looks positively stylish. But Hazelle, without that experience to compare to, looks horrified at his appearance. Her horror only increases when Haymitch plops down on the other end of the couch from her, withdraws a flask from his pocket, and takes a long pull.

Despite how distracted my mind is, snapping at Haymitch comes naturally to me. "You'd better ration that stuff," I warn him. "You know that's the only liquor in this house."

"Thought this was supposed to be a celebration," he says.

"Some of us like to remember our celebrations the next day," I say. Haymitch makes a face, and takes another drink from his flask.

Hazelle stands quickly, and backs up several steps to put some distance between herself and Haymitch. "I think I'd better check the stew," she explains.

I can understand her reluctance to deal with my drunken mentor. "Thank you," I tell her before she leaves. "For everything." She gives me a faint smile to let me know she understands, before vanishing back into the kitchen.

"I get the impression she doesn't like me," Haymitch says dryly.

I don't feel like sparring with Haymitch. "Peeta's in the kitchen," I say, assuming he would want to go see him, but he stays where he is.

"So," he says after a moment, "the two of you are really getting married."

"Technically we already did. Forms are signed," I say.

"Didn't think you had it in you," he says. "Thought you'd break his heart at the first opportunity." I scowl at him, but I don't say anything. After a long moment, and another pull from his flask, he speaks again. "You know, before the Games, when he told me he wanted to use his interview to help you, when he said he wanted you to be the one to win? I thought you could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve him."

I shrug. "Well, you're probably right about that."

"No, I wasn't." I look up in surprise to find him staring directly back at me. "I underestimated you. Both of you. You two deserve each other."

I'm surprised by how much Haymitch's statement means to me. In some ways, he knows Peeta and I better than anyone now. And as much as he can be a drunken oaf at times, he's also shown himself to be a very smart operator. "You don't think we're moving too fast?" I ask, letting my insecurities free for a moment.

Haymitch shrugs. "Maybe. But so what? Every moment after that gong sounds is a precious gift. Best not to be wasting any of them."

The fact that Haymitch's thinking so closely mirrors mine shouldn't surprise me anymore, but it does reassure me a bit. "Can you tell my mother that?"

"Even if I tried, you know she'd never understand. Not the way we do." The way he says this is so different from his usual gruff demeanor, I feel like I'm talking to the real Haymitch for the first time.

"What do you deserve?" I ask.

For just a moment I think he may actually answer, but then his usual mask slips back into place . "Well for one thing, I deserve a day or two of peace. You kids are dragging me out to some damned thing almost as often now as before the cameras left. You'd think after saving both your lives I'd at least warrant some downtime." I don't have any idea how to respond to Haymitch's sudden change in personality, and the sound of another arrival at the door saves me from trying to come up with one.

I open the door to find Delly Cartwright on the other side. As always, she gives me a smile that suggests I'm her best friend in the world. She gives this smile to everyone. "Katniss!" she calls out, even though we're all of 18 inches apart.

"Hey, Delly," I say, motioning for her to come inside.

I don't have the chance to say anything else before she springs through the door and pulls me into a big bear hug. "I'm so excited for you guys!" she squeals.

"Um, thanks, Delly," I answer. I look over her shoulder and see Haymitch watching us from the doorway to the living room. By the look on his face, he's too stunned by Delly to come up with a sarcastic comment, and that makes me fight to not laugh out loud.

Finally Delly releases me and steps back. I decide this is one introduction I'm actually going to enjoy. "Delly, do you know Haymitch?" I ask, gesturing to my mentor. "Haymitch, this is Peeta's friend Delly Cartwright."

Haymitch cocks an eyebrow. "His 'friend,' eh?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Yes, Haymitch, his friend. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"We played together from when we were little," Delly explains. "I used to tell people he was my brother."

"We were all in the same class. But we never overlapped much," I say.

"Katniss was always so amazing, I never dreamed she would notice me," says Delly. "The way she could hunt and go in the Hob and everything. Everyone admired her so."

Haymitch and I both have to take a hard look at her face to double-check if she's joking. To hear Delly describe it, I had next to no friends because I intimidated people by being so exceptional. Not true. I had next to no friends because I wasn't friendly. Leave it to Delly to spin me into something wonderful.

"Delly always thinks the best of everyone," I explain.

Haymitch just grunts at us. Then his face seems to light in memory. "Delly Cartwright? Thought you were a skinny redhead."

Delly looks confused, and she turns to me for an explanation. "In the Capitol, Peeta said one of the Avoxes looked like you. It… was kind of a joke."

"What's an Avox?" she asks.

"Capitol criminal who's had their tongue cut out," I say without thinking, and almost immediately regret it.

I'm used to talking to Peeta or Haymitch, survivors of the arena. Even before that, the only person I really talked to was Gale, cold blooded hunter. I don't need to worry about saying more to them than they can handle. But Delly looks absolutely aghast at my explanation, as if it's never occurred to her that the government that reaps us into the Hunger Games could be so cruel as to create Avoxes. "I'll never understand the Capitol," she says once she regains control of her jaw.

"Better not to, maybe," I tell her. "Why don't you go see Peeta in the kitchen?" She nods shakily and escapes.

"Charming as ever, Sweetheart," Haymitch says. I ignore him.

The house is starting to fill up now. Hazelle, Prim, and Delly all filter between keeping an eye on the food cooking and the living room where I've been exiled. Peeta spends most of his time holed away in the kitchen working on his precious cake, only occasionally popping out to see how the rest of us are doing. Haymitch makes inappropriate comments from his spot on the couch and takes increasingly infrequent sips from his flask.

Soon enough Madge and her father arrive, toting several trays of bite-sized snacks that were probably prepared by the cook who works in the mayor's house. They had these at the events Peeta and I have been attending since we got home; the Capitol people are so decadent that they need food to eat while waiting for a meal to begin. But they do smell delicious, and they serve to occupy people better than my awkward attempts at conversation.

Next to arrive are the Mellark men, with several loaves of bread and a sack of rolls. With everyone bringing dishes to contribute to the meal, this is starting to feel like an old-fashioned Seam potluck. That idea that makes me feel better about accepting the gifts. Mrs. Mellark is nowhere to be seen, and I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed by that. Weirdly enough, I think it's both.

Several minutes after his father and brothers arrive, Peeta emerges from the kitchen. He sits by me where I've managed to separate myself from the rest of our visitors for a moment. "Cake's done," he announces. "It's in the cooler so the frosting can set up a bit."

"Does that mean I'm allowed back in the kitchen again?" I ask.

"Only if you promise not to peek," he says. I bump his shoulder lightly.

We watch as his father comes out to the living room to greet Prim, Hazelle, Haymitch, and the Undersees. "My mother isn't feeling well tonight," Peeta says.

"Don't make excuses for her," I snap, suddenly angry. Peeta turns to look at me as I try to calm myself. "We only lie to each other when we have to on camera, right?"

"Right," he says.

"Then don't tell me your mother isn't feeling well. Don't cover for her anymore," I say. "She doesn't deserve it."

Peeta's quiet after that. After another minute his brothers come out from the kitchen. Rye shakes his head and says, "I can't believe he did all of that in an afternoon."

"You know Peeta," Barlee replies to him.

I look over at Peeta in question, but he just grins at me. After another minute, he speaks up. "You know my mother… I bet she would have come if she knew she could have monopolized the mayor's time." We both laugh at that.

Eventually Peeta and I get sucked back into the group. These people are all my friends, but I still find social interaction tiring, so I'm glad to have the excuse to leave when the door sounds again. I'm still chuckling at something Rye said when I open the door, but my laugh dies in my throat when I find my mother on the other side.

"Mom," I say, and stop myself there. I don't know what I want to say, or what kind of receptive mood she'll be in.

"Hello, Katniss," she says simply.

For a moment we're both frozen, standing here staring at each other, until another round of laughs from the living room interrupts the moment. "Come on in," I say. I back up a few steps to allow her to enter, and find myself bumping into Haymitch.

"I'm heading back to my place for reinforcements," he says, waggling his empty flask at me as he maneuvers past my mother and out the door. I don't bother to respond, I just roll my eyes as he closes the door behind him.

I'm left alone in the entrance hall with my mother. "Hi," I say dumbly, then flounder, unable to come up with another word to say to her right now.

The silence drags on for what feels like forever before she speaks to break it. "I came over here to apologize, Katniss. I don't want us to be angry with each other over this. I promised myself I would never let that happen."

I have no idea how to respond to this, so I don't. After a moment to gather herself she goes on. "When I married your father, my parents didn't approve. They threw me out, disowned me, and I never spoke to them again. I swore I would never do that to my girls." She pauses again, but again I have nothing to say. "You were right yesterday, you're not eleven anymore. You're not 22 either, but I guess maybe I've lost the right to tell you that."

"You have," I confirm for her. She merely nods in acquiescence.

"I have to accept that I can't protect you from all the mistakes you're about to make."

"We're not making a mistake," I say.

"Of course you are," she says quickly. "You're sixteen, you're supposed to make mistakes. That's what being a teenager is for, to make all the mistakes you'll learn from when you're older. It's hard to watch your children making mistakes and not try to correct them, but I'm going to do my best from now on. Because I don't want us to wind up like my family, no matter what happens."

I can't help but think about Peeta's revelations from earlier. "Does your family still run the apothecary?" I ask.

She seems surprised by my question, but after a moment she nods. "My brother and his wife. They have a daughter I've never even met."

So Peeta was right. I've never given much thought to my town relatives - you can't miss what you've never had, as the old Seam saying goes - but at this moment I can't help but find it sad that I have an entire family of relatives who I've never met. Even worse, my mother has a brother she hasn't seen in twenty years. Could that ever happen to Prim and me? Even the thought is horrifying. No matter how drastically things have changed recently, I can't ever imagine my life without Prim. "I don't want that to happen to us either," I say. "You and Prim are my family, that will never change. I would never want it to. But Peeta is my family too."

She absorbs this for a long moment. She almost seems to be fighting a smile. "He really is a nice boy, isn't he?"

"He really is," I say.

"I knew his father when we were younger. He was always a good man."

I my mind, all I see is Mr. Mellark in the bakery this morning, cringing and uncomfortable but ultimately passive and powerless as his wife was about to harm his son. Again. He certainly didn't place himself between his loved ones and danger the way Peeta did in the Games. "He's better than his father."

My mother seems surprised by the vehemence in my voice, but luckily for me a loud knock on the door interrupts us before she can comment. I don't know why Haymitch is knocking now when he didn't knock the first time, but I try not to waste too much of my time trying to explain the actions of Haymitch. "Why don't you go on inside? I need to get the door." She hesitates for just a moment, but she reaches out and gives my arm a quick squeeze before going into the living room.

Another knock sounds from the door. "Calm down, you old drunk!" I call as I approach the door. "What happened, you had too much to drink and you can't figure out how to work the doorknob anymore?"

I have a smug smirk on my face as I throw the door open, but it falls away when Gale, Rory, Vick, and Posy are revealed on the other side.

"Gale can't use a door knob!" Posy chirps happily.

"Not when he's this drunk," Vick snarks from behind his brother. Gale looks at me as if I've betrayed him.

"Sorry. I thought you were Haymitch."

Gale says nothing, just hooks a thumb over his shoulder. When I look over in that direction, I see Haymitch making his way up the street, carrying two bottles of white liquor.

"No!" I say in a stern voice as I lift my arm to point at him, almost exactly like Prim does with Buttercup when he scratches up the furniture. "Flask, yes. Bottle, no."

"I was gonna share," Haymitch grumbles as he turns around and heads back to his house. I shake my head before turning back to Gale.

"Come on in guys, everybody's in the living room," I say, gesturing to the right doorway.

The kids all head in that direction, but Gale lingers behind as I close the door behind them. "Can we talk, Catnip?"

It takes a real effort not to groan out loud. I've done far too much talking today already, as far as I'm concerned. But Gale is my closest friend. At least, I hope he is. "Sure. How about we go out back?" I can't shake the feeling that in this situation I'm somehow the prey, and I don't want to be closed up in here with Gale.

As we pass through the living room, everyone seems to be getting along fine. Posy has curled up on her mother's lap as the two of them chat with Madge. Rory and Prim seem to be in their own little world. I'll have to keep my eye on that. Mr. Mellark and Barlee talk quietly in a corner, while Rye is joking around with Vick. I can't imagine Gale is pleased to see that, but I know that Rye is ultimately harmless.

Peeta is nowhere to be seen.

As I head towards the kitchen, I overhear my mother talking to Mayor Undersee, of all people.

"Horace."

"It's been a long time, Violet."

"How is Elaan doing?"

"This time of year is always hard for her."

In the kitchen I find Peeta washing a baking pan. "You know, today of all days, I'm pretty sure you could find someone else to do that for you."

He looks up and just smiles at me. I can see in his eyes when he takes note of Gale's presence behind me. He sets the pan aside to dry and begins toweling off his hands. "Are you offering?"

"I was thinking more of Prim or Hazelle."

"Nah, they've done more than enough today. Besides, I needed a break from everyone for a minute." He walks over to stand in front of me. I'm expecting a kiss, but instead he steps to the side and reaches an arm past me. "Hey, Gale. Thanks for coming."

Gale doesn't say anything, but he shakes Peeta's hand. "What are you up to?" Peeta asks me.

"Gale wants to talk," I say. Based on Peeta's reaction, he seems to have expected something like this. "We're just gonna head out back for a few minutes." I quickly cut my eyes to the window over the sink, the one that looks out into the yard behind the house. Peeta narrows his eyes slightly, as if he's asking me if I'm sure about what I'm asking him. I nod my head as slightly as I can manage.

"Okay. I have a few more pans to wash," Peeta says, nodding his head over at the sink. And the window over it.

"Good," I say with a nod. He steps back and moves towards the sink. I turn and lead Gale outside.

"Do you want to sit on the porch?" I ask.

"Let's go out closer to the trees," Gale says. Now that we're outside, alone, I put several feet of distance between us as we walk. As soon as we stop walking, Gale steps towards me trying to close the distance. When I take a step back from him, he shoots me an angry look.

"Are you scared of me now, Catnip?" he asks.

"I don't want you to try to kiss me again," I tell him honestly.

He doesn't say anything in response, just gives me another look. I decide I don't want to wait for him. "Gale, what happened yesterday?" I ask him

"What do you mean?" he says.

"When we spoke on Friday, you were okay. Disappointed, but okay. You even said you were happy for me. Then this morning…" I don't even know how to describe the conversation we had this morning. "Well, this morning. So what changed? What happened yesterday to change things?"

Gale sighs heavily. "I guess I just had a day to rethink everything. I thought about what you said the other night, and it makes no sense to me. I know you, and you saying those things makes no sense. The only way I can explain it is that you're lying to me."

At least I was right when I said that Gale didn't trust me anymore. "I'm not," I tell him, trying not to sound defensive. I don't know how successful I am.

"Well of course you'd say that," he says.

"Gale, seriously. I'm not lying to you. I've never lied to you about any of this. I can't even say that to Peeta, but I can say it to you."

This seems to attract Gale's interest. He looks a bit confused when he asks, "You're lying to him?"

I may as well lay it all out in the open, I think. "I lied to him in the arena, when he was in love and I wanted sponsors. I lied to him in our interviews, when he was in love and I was trying to appease the Capitol. Then on the train home I made him think the whole thing had been an act and none of my feelings were real."

Gale's confusion deepens. "So you lied to him by pretending to love him and then you lied by saying it had all been pretend? They can't both be lies."

"But they were," I say. "It's… complicated."

"Well, getting married is sure to simplify things," he snarks.

"I actually thought it would," I admit. "I thought maybe it would at least clarify things for anyone who was still confused about our relationship."

Gale just shakes his head. "I still have trouble believing you're in a relationship," he says.

"You're not the only one," I say. "Heck, it threw me for a loop at first."

Gale squints his eyes slightly, almost as if he's studying me. "We've spent a lot of time together over the years. I know you, Katniss, better than anyone. Almost better than I know my own family. I can tell when you're being genuine and when you're lying."

"And what do you see now?"

He shakes his head again. "That's the thing, I can't tell anymore. The whole time you were in the Games, it was confusing me, cause one minute you'd be awkward and forced and fake, and then the next you'd be completely different, completely genuine. It was like flipping a coin, trying to predict which one you would be in any given moment."

"That's pretty much exactly what happened," I said. "I was trying to fake it, to sell the storyline. But then I kept forgetting that it was only supposed to be a storyline."

"Those interviews you did, it was the same thing. You'd be simpering and swooning and completely hamming it up, and then you'd be Katniss again. Except you'd be looking at that merchant the way I only ever dreamed you'd look at me."

I don't know how to address Gale's heartbreak, so I don't. "So what you're saying is that you can see for yourself the exact same thing that I've been trying to tell you. So why do you still refuse to believe it?"

"I can't just give you up, Catnip," he says. "I can't just let Baker Boy take you away from me."

"I was never yours, Gale," I say a bit testily. "I'm not an object to be given up or some prize to be won or lost. I'm a person, capable of making my own choices."

"And you choose him," Gale says bitterly.

It occurs to me that I had this exact discussion with Peeta this morning, and I wonder how much of that Gale overheard. "If you make me choose, then yes, I choose him." Gale doesn't say anything in response to this, so I push on. "Gale, I'm sorry you fell in love with someone who doesn't love you back. But you need to accept it," I tell him.

"You do love me," he says plaintively.

I shake my head. "Like a brother. Like a friend. There's only one man I'm in love with, and that's my husband."

Gale still reacts to me calling Peeta my husband almost as if he's been physically struck. I hate seeing my friend hurt like this, but it's inevitable. The only alternative would be for me to deny my feelings for Peeta and somehow string Gale along with the false hope that I may one day return his feelings, but that would just leave all three of us miserable. There's no way Peeta or I could ever be happy without each other, not since the cave, and I was a fool for even momentarily considering it on that train.

"So where does that leave us, Katniss?" Gale asks. I belatedly realize that neither of us has spoken for about half a minute.

"I think that's up to you," I say. "What kind of relationship do you want to have with Katniss Mellark?"

Now Gale really does look like I've punched him. He actually staggers for a moment. But I barely notice, because in my head all I can focus on is this new identity I now have. Katniss Mellark. This day has been such a whirlwind that the thought hasn't occurred to me before this moment, but that's who I am now, Katniss Mellark. The thought makes me feel warm inside. Now I really do feel like a lovesick schoolgirl, writing her boyfriend's name inside a heart in her notebook instead of paying attention to the day's lesson on coal. Well, I am sixteen, if not for the Games I would still actually be a schoolgirl.

What would it have been like to love Peeta in a normal life where we were never in the Games? Would I sit in class doodling PM+KE on everything? I can't imagine myself doing that, but I could never have imagined myself doing most of the things I've been doing lately. Would I spend my days jealous of all the blonde-haired, blue-eyed town girls who fawned all over him? Even worse, would I have to join him in hanging out with those people in school? Would we publicly flout the merchant-Seam divide like my parents did? Or would we sneak around to try to hide our relationship from his mother, meeting in secret and dreaming of the day we could reveal the truth about our relationship?

I'm broken out of my reverie by Gale finally forming a response to my question. "I can't believe you're changing your name. It's like you really are becoming a whole new person."

"I have a whole new life now," I tell him. "I have money. I have a huge house. Prim will never starve. I'll never starve. You would never starve if you'd stop being so stubborn and let me help your family."

"We don't need your charity," he snaps.

I roll my eyes at him, even though deep down I know I would say the exact same thing in his place. "It's the Capitol's money, more than I could ever spend. Might as well put it to good use."

"I don't want anything from the Capitol," he says.

"That didn't stop you from taking your share on Parcel Day, did it?" It's a low blow, but it has the desired effect of deflating his indignation, and I can't help but pile on. "Did you enjoy giving Posy those little bags of candy? And I hear from Hazelle that you really liked something called cauliflower." The Parcel Day deliveries contained lots of types of food we never see in the Seam, and that was one of them. I've read through my family's plant book many times, I know about all kinds of flowers, but I've never heard of a cauliflower. It must only grow in another district. "You're welcome," I add as a final dig.

Gale's shoulders sink, as if he finds this conversation as wearying as I do. "What do you want from me?"

"I want my best friend. I want my hunting partner. Cause with everything that's different in my life right now, that's the one thing I thought would never change."

Gale is quiet for a long time. "I'll… I'll try, Katniss. I can't make any promises, but I'll try."

I know that's the best I'm going to get right now, so I just say, "Okay."

He takes a step toward me, and I reflexively step back. He smiles sadly at me. "It's just a hug, Catnip." I don't really want to hug him right now, I feel like it's promising something I'm not willing to give. But I hold still and let him close the distance between us and wrap his arms around me, only half-heartedly returning the gesture. His body is still familiar to me from years of learning its movements, but his embrace feels alien to me now that I've become so used to the feel of Peeta's arms.

So I stand stiffly in Gale's hug until he finally releases me and steps back. I sort of nod awkwardly, then begin walking back toward the house.

Peeta meets us on the porch. "Everything all right?" he asks me.

Instead of answering, I just hug him to me and hold on for a long moment. "I think so," I say as I step back.

Gale moves to stand directly in front of Peeta. I move slightly to the side as the two men face one another.

"Mellark," Gale says by way of greeting.

"Gale," Peeta says in response.

"She deserves better than you," Gale states flatly.

Peeta seems surprised by the statement, but replies after only a brief moment. "She deserves whatever she wants. And she deserves the support of her friends and family."

Gale seems to stop to think for a moment before nodding to himself. "If you ever do anything to hurt her, I'll kill you," he says.

"Likewise," Peeta replies.

Gale blinks. Clearly that wasn't the answer he was expecting. He opens his mouth to respond, but I interrupt before this can escalate any further. "If you two are done posturing, maybe we could go inside and actually enjoy the party?"

Peeta seems to recoil slightly. "I, um, I have some pans to finish."

"I'll help," I say, following him in.

In the kitchen, my mother is stirring a pot of stew. "I can take over, Mrs. Everdeen," Peeta says. She smiles and gives his hand a quick squeeze before leaving.

Gale is hovering by the door rather than continuing on to the living room. "You'd better get in there," I say. "I think I saw Posy talking to Haymitch before." Gale's eyes widen slightly before he finally leaves.

The only sound left is Peeta at the sink. I take over stirring the stew.

"I'm sorry I overstepped earlier," Peeta says.

"You didn't."

"I know you don't need me to speak for you."

"Have you heard me try to speak?" I say.

The joke has the desired effect; he smiles lightly. "You know what I mean. I didn't mean to talk over you."

"You didn't," I repeat. "You weren't doing anything wrong. I just don't think challenging Gale is the best idea right now. Times like this it's best to let him go and lick his wounds for a while."

Peeta makes a non-committal noise, and returns his concentration to the dish he's been scrubbing this whole time. I let the silence drag on until he's drying his hands, then I move a bit closer and bump him with my hip. "Hey," I say.

"Hey," he says back, and finally looks up to flash me a smile.

"I realized something while I was talking with Gale," I say.

Peeta cocks an eyebrow at me. "Oh, yeah?" he says.

"Yeah," I say. "I'm Katniss Mellark now."

Peeta smiles what may be the biggest smile I've ever seen on a person. "Katniss Mellark," he says, talking to himself more than he's talking to me.

I can't help but laugh a little. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too."

Peeta sobers far more quickly than I would have liked. "You don't have to change your name. You know, if you don't want to, you don't have to. I wouldn't ask you to."

The idea brings me up short, because truly it had never occurred to me. I know that technically it's not required. It's not part of the standard marriage forms, there's a whole separate name change form that I had to fill out this afternoon. "Already filled out the form for it."

"The mayor's right here," Peeta says. "You could go ask him not to file that one."

I shake my head. "What are you trying to say, Peeta? Do you want me not to change my name?" He seemed pleased with the idea when I first brought it up, so where is this opposition coming from?

He sighs heavily, and finally turns to face me fully. "I'm saying, you don't have to change your name just because it's expected. I know how important your family is to you, I wouldn't ask you to give that up."

"What makes you think I'm giving anything up? I'll still be an Everdeen, nothing will change that. But now I'll be something else, too. Now I'll be Katniss Mellark."

I can see the way his eyes brighten when I say the name; I know he likes the idea. With a deep breath he places his hands on my waist and rests his forehead against mine. "If you're sure," he says.

I nod against his head. "I want to be Katniss Mellark," I say. "If that's okay with you?"

Peeta barks out a laugh. "Okay with me? I've only been dreaming of the name Katniss Mellark since I learned how names work."

I have to shake my head at him, but then I lean up and quickly brush our lips together. "You're really horrible at asking for what you want, you know that?"

"I couldn't ask for that."

"You could," I say. "I'm not exactly good at figuring out what people are thinking. If you don't start asking for the things you want, you may be in for a pretty unhappy marriage."

"Never," he breathes against my face. "As long as I get to spend every day with you, I could never be unhappy."

"Well, I'm glad you're so easy to please," I say.

"You still don't know the effect you have on me."

"Well, you'll just have to show me," I say.

"You two are so cute."

We break apart to find Prim watching us from the doorway. "It's getting kind of conspicuous that this toasting party is missing the toasting couple. You might want to go say hi to some of your guests."

"Um, I was stirring the stew," I say weakly.

"Yes, I could tell how much attention you were paying to the stew," she replies, and there's nothing about this conversation that makes me comfortable having it with my twelve-year-old sister. "I'll watch the stew. You two go enjoy your party."

I take Peeta's hand and head for the living room, as much to end the discussion as for any other reason.

…..

The evening goes surprisingly smoothly, given the mix of people involved. Posy is growing up in a house with three older brothers, so she quickly gravitates towards Madge and Delly, both of whom are only too happy to entertain the precocious young girl. Rory seems to be primarily interested in monopolizing Prim's time, even going so far as to trail after her when she heads off to help Hazelle with the food. My mother and Peeta's father and Mayor Undersee all seem to have known each other in the old days, before one of them became a Capitol representative and one of them was banished from town. Peeta's brothers are primarily interested in embarrassing Peeta, which Gale enjoys a bit more than I appreciate, but every story they share involves his years-long crush on me, and I love hearing those stories. Vick winds up talking for a while with Haymitch, about what I can not imagine. Gale is concerned that my mentor might give the boy some of his white liquor, but with how little we let him bring over I doubt he'd be willing to share.

We enjoy a wonderful dinner, not as fancy as the Capitol feasts we've been paraded through lately but every bit as delicious and twice as satisfying because it was prepared by people who love and respect us. And after dinner, Peeta takes the remaining heel of a loaf from the table - a loaf he himself prepared earlier, a loaf we shared with all of our closest family and friends - and we make our way over to the living room fireplace, where someone has already laid out a small rug in front of the hearth for us to kneel on. Peeta and I restart the fire that had gone out while we were in the other room eating. Together, we hold the heel of bread over the flame, our fingers mingling together as we turn the bread over the heat. We probably toast it too far, the bread is very dry and crusty by the time we pull it back, but the gesture feels so good, so intimate, and so right, that we're reluctant to stop. But finally, we have toast.

Peeta holds up the chunk of bread between us. "Katniss, I've loved you since I was five years old. The first day I ever laid eyes on you I knew that I loved you, that I would always love you, that from that moment on I would never love anyone else the way I love you. I've dreamed of this day for many years, but you are so much better than any dream. I swear I will always fight for you, I will always protect you, and I will always love you. You've made me the happiest man in Panem by becoming my wife." And he takes a bite.

I take the bread from him and hold it up between us. "Peeta, I don't have your talent with words, I can't possibly express my love as beautifully as you can. All I can say is that I love you, and I always will. Nothing could ever change that. I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you. I promise I will always fight for you, I will always protect you, and I will always love you. You make me the happiest woman in Panem every day." And I take a bite.

All I can do is stare at Peeta for a moment, and then we're kissing. I'm lost in the kiss, lost in the moment, lost in my love. I'm lost in Peeta, and I don't care if I'm ever found. When we break apart, all I can do is stare into Peeta's blue eyes, eyes I've grown accustomed to seeing full of love but never more so than in this moment. He stares back at me, and I only hope that he can see my love for him as clearly as I can see his love for me. For just a moment I wish we had decided to have our toasting in private, just the two of us, so we could make love for the first time right here, right now, by our toasting fire, with the taste of the bread still on our lips.

We're broken out of our trance when Haymitch, of all people, begins singing the District Twelve wedding song. Ordinarily the song is sung when a couple crosses into their new home for the first time, but since Peeta and I already lived here before marrying we had skipped that part of the tradition. In contrast to the gruffness and general unsteadiness of Haymitch's speaking voice, his singing voice is remarkably smooth, a deep, rich baritone. He's soon joined by most of our other guests; though I can see Gale scowling at me and obviously not singing I ignore it.

Once the song is finished, Peeta and I kiss again – just a quick peck this time. We stand, and everyone rushes to congratulate us again on our marriage now that the toasting is done. Eventually Peeta and Prim make it to the kitchen, and I try to herd everyone back into the dining room. Peeta brings out the cake and Prim carries a huge stack of dishes and utensils.

Once Peeta unveils the cake, everyone stops to congratulate him again, and he certainly deserves it. The cake is stunningly beautiful, and remarkable considering the short time he had to work on it. It's two tiers, frosted in dark evergreen with pale orange features around the edges. I would never imagine those two colors working together but somehow Peeta made it beautiful. The sides of the cake have iced flower designs, not the intricate frosting petals he creates when he has many days to work with but still amazing. He seems to have made every type of wildflower imaginable, but I pick out some primroses in there, and katniss, and rue, and dandelions. The top of the cake is covered by a large design in icing: A katniss flower and a dandelion, their stems twined around each other, their intermingled roots forming the word Always. I tear up at the sight of it; it's perfect, and I tell Peeta so between my tears.

Peeta gently wipes the tears from my cheeks. "It's a cake. It's supposed to make people happy," he says tenderly.

"I am happy," I tell him, my cheeks still wet. "I'm happier than I ever thought I could be." And I pull him down for another kiss.

Everyone agrees that the cake is as delicious as it was beautiful. I'm actually sad to see it cut up, but Peeta assures me that once we get our supplies for our talent he'll paint the katniss-and-dandelion design and we can hang it in the house. I think of the drab walls of our Capitol-built home, soon to be covered in beautiful artwork by Peeta, and I smile.

As soon as people begin finishing their cake, they begin making their exits. Gale has to be up early for the mines in the morning; he takes Rory, Vick, and Posy with him, but Hazelle offers to stay and help clean up. Rye and Barlee have to be up early for the bakery; Mr. Mellark offers to stay and help clean but he has to be up just as early, and Peeta insists he go home. They bring Delly with them, who has to get back home to her parents. Mayor Undersee congratulates us again and thanks us for the invitation, but surprisingly Madge offers to stay and help. Haymitch, whose alcohol intake tonight has been admirably limited, is able to make it home on his own, and between the six of us remaining we have the plates and glasses collected and cleaned and the living room and dining room tidied up in no time. Mom and Prim live two houses away, but Peeta and I both agree that it's too late for Madge and Hazelle to be walking across the district on their own, and insist on walking them home.

It's late by the time we finally get home. I'm tired, but excited. Once we had dropped Madge and Hazelle off and were walking home alone, I couldn't help but think ahead to tonight. Our wedding night.

"You ready to go to bed?" Peeta asks. Apparently he's as eager as I am.

"I actually am," I tell him with a smile. He gives me a strange look, but I dismiss it. This whole thing is going to be strange for both of us, I think.

When we get upstairs, Peeta goes into the bathroom to change. Change into what? I wonder. I mentally shrug, and begin undressing.

After a minute, sitting on the bed naked waiting for Peeta is making me too nervous, so I throw on a silk robe from my Capitol wardrobe.

Finally Peeta emerges from the bathroom. He's wearing sleep pants and a shirt. I try not to betray my own nervousness and ask, "Aren't you a bit overdressed for this?"

Peeta is a bit flustered. He can undoubtedly tell how little I have on under this robe, and I try not to shrink from his gaze. He opens his mouth a few times before a word finally comes out of it. "Ov- Overdressed?"

I force as much confidence into my voice as I can. "I can't claim to be an expert, but I'd say you're going to have to at least lose the pants."

Peeta is beyond flustered now, he's nearly speechless. "Katniss, we don't have to- I mean, just because we're married- Um, I would never-"

I interrupt his fractured thoughts, but somehow I can't force the confidence into my voice anymore when I ask, "Are you saying you don't want to?"

"No, I didn't say that," Peeta says. He walks over and sits next to me on the bed, and I try not to take it personally when he carefully leaves a few inches of space between us. "I don't want you to think this is something we have to do."

"Is this like the name thing earlier?" I ask. "When are you going to accept that I'm perfectly capable of deciding for myself what I want?"

Peeta sighs heavily. "Katniss, if this is what you truly want then believe me, I'm more than interested. But I meant what I said earlier, I don't ever want us to do anything you might regret later. Just because this is what usually happens on a wedding night, doesn't mean we have to do anything. We can just go to sleep, if that's what you want."

I don't let him continue. "Peeta, I want this." I lean over to give him a soft kiss on the lips, but it doesn't stay soft for long. We both inject more and more passion into the kiss. Somehow Peeta has lost his shirt, because my roaming hands find only his hard, toned chest and back. I wonder briefly how that happened when I don't remember breaking our kiss, but at this moment I really don't care.

I gasp when I feel Peeta's hand on my breast, but before I can do anything else Peeta jerks himself away from me. "I- I'm sorry," he stammers out. "I- I-"

"Peeta, stop. You didn't do anything wrong." I shift over to close the distance he's opened between us. I'm trying desperately not to let on to Peeta how nervous I am, but I can't quite keep a stammer out of my own voice as I tell him, "Th-that felt r-really good."

Peeta looks straight into my eyes, pinning me with his blue gaze. "Katniss, are you absolutely sure?"

I nod my head, and lean in and kiss him again. "This is my wedding night, and I want to make love to my husband." I've always been better with actions than words, so I decide to take action.

I stand up and place myself directly in front of him, holding him by the shoulders to make sure he turns to face me. "Trust me," I tell him, then, mustering every bit of courage I have in me, I untie my robe and let it fall to the floor. Peeta just stares at me with his jaw hanging open, his eyes roaming over every inch of my exposed body. I fight my instinct to shrink from his gaze, and the look of awe on his face helps build my confidence back up. "I want this," I repeat. I lean in and kiss him again. My hands roam his torso. It takes a while, but eventually Peeta allows his hands to rest on my bare hips. I can't contain the soft moan that his touch elicits from me.

When we break the kiss, I find I'm now straddling Peeta's lap, kneeling on the bed to either side of him. Peeta's hands haven't moved from my hips. I don't let him try to pull away again, I wrap my arms around him and pull us together, out naked chests pressed together, our foreheads leaned against each other, our faces just barely separated. I can feel Peeta's heartbeat against my breast. I can feel his heavy breathing against my face. I can even feel his arousal pressed against me through the fabric of his sleep pants. This last makes me smile a bit; I feel sort of perversely proud that I've had this effect on him, that I've proven to both of us that he wants this just as much as I do.

"Katniss, you are so indescribably beautiful," he breathes out. "I just- I just- Thank you."

I can't help but be happy with how tongue-tied I've made my husband. "I'm yours, Peeta," I say, and I can feel his breath hitch and his whole body freeze for just a moment as he absorbs my words. "I'm your wife, and you're my husband, and nothing we do together could ever be wrong." I stop to give him another short kiss. "Nothing we do together could ever be anything that I would regret."

"I'm yours," Peeta repeats back to me. "If you want to do this, I am completely yours to do whatever you want with. The only thing I would ever regret is hurting you."

"You won't," I say, "you won't," and then I can't take the separation anymore so I pull him into another fevered kiss.

Peeta lets his hands roam up my sides a bit, but only so far. Growing impatient, and feeling emboldened by my earlier actions, I take his hands in mine, and place them directly onto my breasts. We both moan at the contact. Gently, tentatively, oh so carefully, Peeta squeezes my soft flesh, and we both moan again, and I find myself arching my back into his touch.

I can already feel that I'm starting to lose myself to this new experience, lose myself to sensation. Is this really supposed to feel so good already? I mean, we're not even having sex yet, but this is by far the most intensely pleasurable experience of my life. Love and sex always seemed like such a nuisance to me; an annoyance at best, danger at worst. But this is incredible. Peeta is incredible. And he makes me feel things I've never imagined. He makes me feel incredible. In this moment, I can't understand why I would ever have not wanted this. In this moment, I don't know how on earth I ever lived without this.

Rather belatedly, I realize there's something important I haven't said yet tonight. "Peeta?" I ask, out of breath.

"Yes, Katniss?" he answers, out of breath.

"I love you."

Peeta starts for a moment, then smiles. "I love you, Katniss."

That leaves only one more thing to say. "Now take off your pants."

Peeta needs no further encouragement.

…..

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"That was…"

"Amazing."

"It was perfect."

"You're perfect."

"You're amazing."

"Why thank you."

"I love you."

"I love you, so much."

"We're married. We can spend the rest of our lives loving each other."

"Loving each other in what sense?"

"In every sense."

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"No. Not at all."

"That's good, cause I can't get enough of you either."

"You just can't keep your hands off me."

"No, I really can't. Do you want me to?

"No, not at all."

"Good."

"Ohhhhhh…"

…..

Our first time is a bit clumsy, and a bit tentative, and a bit awkward. I find it a bit uncomfortable at first, though not nearly as bad as some of the horror stories I overheard from other girls at school. After trying so hard to ease Peeta's nerves, mine come back with a vengeance, but together we manage to calm each other. It's thrilling, and frightening, and one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Physical love is much like emotional love in that way. I guess years in the woods and weeks in the arena did a number on my body, because I have no bleeding and no real pain to go with my first time. Just as well, I think, though Peeta is so worried about causing me any pain that I can't help but laugh at his terrified expression. Lesson learned: Don't laugh at your husband in the middle of lovemaking. Making him laugh with you, on the other hand…

Our second time is less clumsy and less tentative and much less awkward, more experimental and exploratory. We've worked through our initial nervousness, have become more comfortable with each other, and now we're really learning what we're doing. We're learning each other's bodies, learning what feels good and what feels amazing. I discover that Peeta's left earlobe seems to be almost the most sensitive spot on his body. Almost. Peeta finds a particular spot where my neck meets my collarbone that makes my whole body melt when he kisses it. I learn that while running my hands through Peeta's hair will make him growl at me in a most unexpectedly pleasing way, if I actually pull on his hair it only serves to remind him of his mother. I also learn that one of the best ways to make him stop thinking of his mother is to hug his naked body to mine as tightly as I can.

By our third time I think we're really getting the hang of it, moving together so perfectly that it feels like we're becoming one being. It's at this point when I start to wonder if spending the rest of my life in bed with Peeta is a viable option. Peeta laughs lightly at the idea, but he doesn't say no.

By our fourth time Peeta talks me into being on top, which is thrilling and frightening and one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

And after, snuggled together sitting against the headboard, when neither one of us has the energy left for anything more heated than soft, sweet kisses, I sing for Peeta. I sing the valley song, for the first time since I was a young child, and the look of adoration Peeta gives me is so adorable it makes him look like a young child again. I sing a few other songs, songs my father taught me that I haven't sung since he died. I even sing songs of love that I remember hearing my father sing for my mother; I sing them now for my husband.

Later, barely awake, secure in Peeta's arms, physically exhausted and lost in memories and soaked in love, I mull over that thought. Songs I learned from my father and now share with my husband. And so quickly that it happens before the idea can terrify me, I think about one day teaching songs to my children. Would my children sing as beautifully as my father did?

Wait a minute, children? My children? I don't want children. I'm never having children.

Peeta wants children, I think, and it's undoubtedly true. Even if our experience in the Games has put him off the idea for now, given the opportunity I'm sure Peeta would love to be a father. I look up at Peeta, exhausted and nearly asleep as I am, a small, sweet smile on his face. He would make a wonderful father. He would be so kind and gentle with our children, never once losing his patience or his temper. He would set the right example for them, kind and considerate and brave and determined. And he would protect them with every fiber of his being, he'd fight to the death to protect our family just like he fought for me in the Games. Peeta Mellark would be the perfect father.

I shouldn't be thinking about that, because we're not having kids. We're not having kids.

But for just a moment, I picture it. I picture our kitchen: Peeta baking, me eating, and running around the table is a toddling boy with a mop of blond curls on his head. I picture Peeta giving our son a cookie and ruffling his already unruly hair. I picture the boy munching on the cookie and his happy giggles filling the room. I picture how happy he makes Peeta, and shockingly enough, how happy he makes me.

But wait, no. I don't want kids. I've never wanted kids. I don't want kids.

Yeah, you never wanted to fall in love or get married either, look where that got you.

The idea is ridiculous, anyway. I can't have kids. As a practical matter I won't be fertile for five years. And I could never have kids so long as there are reapings, no matter how cute they'd be and no matter how incredibly good a father Peeta would be.

No, stop it. Stop thinking like that, Katniss. Especially now, with the Capitol and the president after me. Any child of mine may as well be born on a tribute train.

I forcibly expel all thoughts of children from my mind, and instead concentrate on what I have here. The cool night air drifting in through the open window and gradually dissipating the mugginess in the room. The delicious soreness I feel from the evening's activities. The surprisingly pleasurable feel of the bedsheets on my naked body.

And, of course, Peeta. My husband, my Peeta, sweaty and exhausted and hugging me close to him. His heart, gently thump-thumping in my ear. His chest, rhythmically lifting and lowering, carrying my head with it. His body, pressed against mine, skin to skin. I feel like despite my mother, despite his mother, despite Gale, despite everything, this day couldn't have gone any better. My perfect wedding day.

Just as I'm finally about to drift off, I hear him whisper, "Is this real? This can't be real, can it?"

"It's real, Peeta," I mumble into his chest. "We're real."

I can't muster the energy to move my head or to raise my voice. I'm not even sure if he heard me until he responds, "Are you sure? This seems too good to be real."

"It's real," I repeat. "I love you. There's nothing more real than that."

"Okay, I believe you," he says, each word growing more indistinct as he slowly slips toward unconsciousness. "But I'm gonna be pissed if I wake up tomorrow in my room with Rye complaining about me moaning your name in my sleep again."

Hmm. Peeta used to moan my name in his sleep? There's a tidbit about Peeta's younger years that I was previously unaware of. "Go to sleep, Peeta. It'll still be real when you wake up."

Peeta lets out a muffled grunt in reply. I think he's finally asleep, and truthfully I think I'm finally asleep, until I hear him whisper-mumble one more thing.

"I love you, Katniss."

I smile into his chest. "I love you, Peeta."

And so ends my wedding day.

…..

That night, I have no nightmares. For the first time since we came home, I don't dream about the arena. Instead, I dream of another place. Another District 12, another Panem. A place with no Games, and no Peacekeepers, and no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. A place where our child could be safe.

…..

If anybody is still reading this story, then I sincerely thank you. It's been literally over a year since I last updated this story. All I can say is that real life has been both time-consuming and enormously demotivating. But nothing has been abandoned, as I hope this fifteen-thousand-word behemoth of a chapter shows.

I usually aim for about five thousand words per chapter, so ordinarily I would have split this up into two. I didn't for two reasons: 1. This story was taking SO LONG to finally get to the part with a plot, and 2. It has literally been over a calendar year since my last update, I wasn't going to come back with half a chapter. So I decided to just push through to the end of the wedding day in one chapter.

In the year since my last NAOI update I completed my other WIP, What's So Civil About War Anyway?, and published a Prompts in Panem oneshot I'm really proud of, The Other Choice, so I hope you'll check out my other stories if you haven't already seen those. Coming up this weekend for the Holidays in Panem PiP, I'll be submitting what I'm calling the dumbest Everlark AU ever, so keep an eye out for that one. It'll be cross-posted on this site probably by Monday or Tuesday.

Next chapter: A bit of an interregnum, the calm before the storm. P&K are happily married, they slowly acclimate to their lives as Victors, they establish what will become their new normal. Chapter after next: All of that gets blown to hell when the plot of Catching Fire finally enters the story.

Preview quote from Chapter 10:

"Well, if it isn't our favorite Victor! Still slumming it with the rest of us?"