Disclaimer: This fanfic is rated 'E' for adult themes which will come into effect later on in the story. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games, although I wish I did, and have taken creative liberties with respect to character traits and canon elements.
Chapter 2 – The Weary Prince
The day was going to be a long one, he could feel it deep in his bones. The crowd already gathered spilled into the hallway, evidence that the nobles had turned out in full force for the annual reaping. The line of ladies in waiting never ceased to disappoint.
Impatient, he looked to the head priest, his narrowed stare a silent inquiry as to when the proceedings would finally get underway. The sooner they began, the sooner they ended. And the sooner they would all leave these lands and leave him be.
Over the past month, the nobles had traveled from the Capitol to attend the three-month-long festivities of the annual reaping. It was an ancient event in which ladies of the court followed their hopes of becoming his Eternal—his fated partner, a blessing to the kingdom and royals of Panem who would provide his lineage with precious daughters. Not only that, an Eternal would bring to him freedom—be only his in mind, body, and soul. Be the one to finally quench his ever-present hunger.
Blessing indeed. More like a myth, for there had not been an Eternal within his family in over three hundred years. Why would the goddesses choose now to bestow such a blessing to a lowly, third son?
With his typical mask of indifference securely in place, he regarded the ladies to be presented before him, looking for any that caught his eye. It was the same every year: women dressed in ridiculous fashions to try and stand out from one another in hopes of making an impression. And why would this year's reaping prove any different? The latest word from his vizier, Seneca, was that based on the turnout of noblewomen this year, the reaping would last at least a week.
Peeta closed his eyes and sighed. He would get through this, just like he did every year, and in the end, he would pick his next conquest. If he was lucky, she would last until the next reaping. If not, well, he hadn't thought that far ahead. If only to cease the incessant nagging from the King's primary mistress, he had considered taking Lady Glimmer as his next mistress. She was entertaining, he supposed, and he had not tasted of her yet. She would be as good a choice as any—if only she knew when to keep quiet.
As he watched the priests who were gathered along both sides of the dais chant the old words in the ancient dialect—their low, hypnotic tone hopeful of persuading the goddesses to show him favor—he could not help but let his thoughts drift to why he was here. In a rundown castle. In the forgotten lands of the Seam. Surrounded by wilderness.
Contrary to popular belief, he did not view the Seam as a problem. It was because of this problem that he had been sent here, to the borderlands of Panem which not even his father himself had bothered to visit in decades. He had tried to learn as much as he could about the people of this realm and their culture before embarking on his journey, but there was not much to go on from the ancient texts that he'd pored through at the Capitol library.
Thanks to the observations from his scouts over the past few weeks, he'd been able to deduce that yes, the people of the Seam were different from the Capitolites. Yes, they dressed in a manner that many would find immoral. And yes, many spoke and carried themselves in a manner that his court would consider uncouth. But they were not wild or savage, as the Council had tried to lead him to believe. No, if anything, they were a downtrodden people who had been neglected by their ruler. And why wouldn't they be downtrodden with the way his father, or rather, his father's Council had treated them?
His suspicion of the Council's true objective for the Seam was becoming clearer with each passing day: to ensure the people remained broken and poor so they could be more easily controlled. Over the past decade, many of those in the outer realms had not officially reaffirmed fealty to the King, and fear of a potential rebellion was always on the forefront of the minds of the Council. His presence in their lands was to be a reminder of who had conquered them, and in the words of the Council elders, bring them to heel at whatever cost.
Most of the nobles who had followed him here had believed his station at the palace was temporary, that he would return to the Capitol in a few months after the reaping. Most chose not to believe him when he said he had no desire to return. It was his own form of rebellion against the Council who had schemed as much as they could until they practically used his father as a puppet.
At a time, his father was a kind and benevolent king, but the weight of ruling over the past decades had hardened him, and without an Eternal of his own, he too was forced to take on mistress after mistress. The time eventually came when his duty to provide heirs to the kingdom could no longer be ignored. With the birth of his two older brothers and himself, all from different women, his father had considered his duty fulfilled.
His own mother he never knew, for she had died in childbirth. He was fortunate to have been born at the King's palace in the Fourth Realm, which meant for most of his childhood he was spared from the wrath of his father's primary mistress, a shrewd and malevolent woman who did not shy from letting him know he was the insignificant youngest son. He could have easily informed his father of his mistreatment at her hand, thereby sealing her fate with a death sentence. But he remained silent, choosing rather to stay away from them all as much as he could.
The chanting of the priests suddenly grew in intensity, breaking him from his thoughts. The repeated words of "may the goddess grant her your favor" in the old tongue were haunting as the crowd that had gathered parted and the ladies filed along the center of the room.
So it began.
With a nod to the head priest, he sat taller on his throne and watched the first tribute in line approach the dais. From his left, Seneca provided him with the necessary details; her family, which realm she hailed from, and most importantly, what type of company she would provide.
The lady curtsied and then looked up at him, and all he could do was hold his breath. Her looks were pleasant enough, and according to Seneca she was from a respectable family from the Second Realm, however, there was nothing about her that spoke to him. No spark within his blood.
This was his eighth reaping, and over the years since he'd come of age at eighteen, he'd had to learn the hard way with regard to what he could and could not tolerate in a mistress. Trial and error was a tedious game to go alone. He'd learned to trust his instincts over the years, and when in doubt, that of Finnick.
Glancing through the crowd, Peeta found his comrade and personal guard leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing smirk plastered across his face. The slow back and forth of Finnick's head confirmed what Peeta already felt. Not her.
As the lady rose, she paused, and the words from the priests filled the room.
Goddess of Love and Light
Grant your favor unto thee
Bestow upon us an Eternal
From this curse, set us free.
The room was silent, except for the undercurrent low hum of the priests. The countdown from sixty began in his head, and with each passing number, the tension in his shoulders pulled tighter. When he reached zero, and no sign from the Goddess of Light was seen, he released a heavy sigh under his breath.
With a nod at the lady's crestfallen face, she backed away and exited the courtroom and the next lady proceeded to the dais. One down, twenty-three left for tonight.
By the fourth tribute, his mind again began to wander. As much as his brothers had shared with him about what to expect—and what was expected of him—he'd found himself very much alone, trying to figure out not only his place in the Kingdom but what he wanted to make of his future.
Beyond fealty to his father, his expectations as the youngest Prince were thankfully low compared to his brothers, which meant he was granted leniency with his duties. He'd proven himself in numerous battles at his father's command, as both a strategist and keeper of the peace. And what did he have to show for his victories? Nothing but the scars that mottled his body and a hollow in his soul that only seemed to grow with each passing year. Being sent to the Twelfth Realm may have been seen as a punishment to his brothers, but to him, it was an escape.
"Lady Glimmer," Seneca murmured under his breath, the introduction unnecessary. The woman approached the dais, outfitted in swaths of crimson and all demur smiles as she dipped into a graceful low curtsey. She peered up at him from beneath her downcast face, and her smile turned salacious.
Peeta sighed. He'd have to settle on one of them eventually, and she would be as good a choice as any. For such was life for a Prince of the Blood—to go from throat to throat, lover to lover. Destined to never find satisfaction with anyone except his mythological Eternal.
Unease crept over his skin though when he looked into Lady Glimmer's eyes, and he glanced into the crowd where he found Lady Madge amongst them. When he caught her attention, she frowned and shook her head.
During the early years, she was once his mistress, hence spared from having to partake in the reaping. She was kind and had never shown an interest in court life. He would be lying if he said he hadn't considered one day taking her to bear his children. But he wasn't yet ready for that.
Although they had never said the words, an understanding had formed between them during their time together. Lady Madge was more an ally than a jealous former mistress, and he trusted her judgment when it came to the gossip that filled his court. So he was silently grateful when she tended to keep close to him during times as such, when a woman's opinion could do him well.
After what seemed like hours, the line of ladies had dwindled and the charade for today was thankfully coming to an end. As the lady before him arose, a low rumble of murmurs caught his ear. There was a commotion amongst the nobles as the next tribute advanced. It was Lady Clove, new to court this year as she had just come of age. She was another favorite of the King's primary mistress, which by default made him dislike her even more.
The closer Lady Clove approached, he could not help but notice the shimmer of gold that followed behind her and the increasing murmurs from the crowd. Peeta narrowed his eyes and his mouth thinned. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him for surely Lady Clove had enough good sense as to not...he stood corrected. The woman had not an ounce of sense at all. He frowned at the spectacle before him. So this was what the courtiers had now resorted to? Exploiting the locals as a ploy to garner his attention and stand out from their competition?
It was a Seam girl who followed behind Lady Clove, tethered to the woman's voluminous skirts by golden cords as they drew near. A few more steps and he was able to get a better look at the girl or rather young woman. She was scarcely dressed, practically naked compared to the usual Capitol fashions, and every bit of her glowed a warm gold. Her dark hair was free and fell in loose waves about her shoulders and atop her head was a wreath of golden laurel. She looked like a wild princess. But it was her striking eyes that demanded his attention. Full of fire and defiance as she held her chin high and did not shy away from looking about the crowd who openly gawked and whispered behind covered mouths.
A quiet suddenly befell the court as Lady Clove lowered into a deep curtsy and held her position. But the woman behind her did not move. Her steely grey eyes bore into his and held them for a moment before dipping her chin. At once the crowd burst into gasps and loud whispers, as words such as "uncouth" and "insolent" and "savage" filtered through the air.
"What is this," he heard Seneca whisper rather harshly from his side. "Who allowed that girl in here?"
It was tempting to break from decorum and discard his bland mask of indifference, for he could not help the corner of his mouth from twitching. As much as he hated to admit it, Lady Clove had been successful in making quite a scene, and he was certain her scheme would keep the noble's tongues wagging for days to come.
Peeta held up a hand to silence the court, but the priests continued their low chant. It was known to him that the people of the Seam did not bow to anyone but their gods, and so while it rankled a slight part of his pride, he took no offense to what the others perceived as defiance. Instead, without breaking his stare he responded with the slightest dip of his chin in return.
He continued to watch the woman as the priest's incantation echoed throughout the room, but before they could finish, something in their tone shifted and a new verse of their prayer had Peeta leaning forward in his seat. As moments passed, their words shifted to solemn chanting that only grew in intensity. Someone gasped aloud, and a low murmur once again filled the room.
Then he saw it. As if the ceiling had parted amid the ceremony, a beam of light materialized from above as though descending from the heavens themselves.
The crowd drew in a collective breath, as did he, and his fingers dug into the cold stone of his throne. His heart almost ceased beating as his skin prickled with heat. No…not her. But when the beam of light was fully formed, it did not shine upon Lady Clove, as he had feared, but rather a ways behind her. He held his breath as the glow of the light fully encircled the woman from the Seam.
Time slowed and for a moment, his world fell silent. The light surrounding her pulsed, growing until she was blinding and as radiant as the sun. It took a moment before he acknowledged the warmth that had suddenly encased him, for the Goddess of Light had shown him favor. Then time caught up with him and he jolted back to the madness unfolding around them.
Surrounded by a sea of chaos, she was the only one unmoving. The cords tethering her to Lady Clove dropped, and the outraged tribute retreated to the side, her face scarlet. Beside her was Lady Madge, whispering harshly as she tugged the woman further away from the scene. He could scarcely believe the events that were unfolding, but who could deny what their own eyes were laying witness to?
From his side, Seneca could be heard over the commotion. "There must be some mistake. She is from the Seam!"
"Who are you to question the goddess," Peeta replied coolly, despite the energy coursing through him. "It matters not where she is from, for she has been chosen."
When the woman in question still made no move to approach him, he motioned to the head priest to take control of the situation. He chanced a glance at Finnick who was doing his part in helping the guards push back the out-of-control nobles. But his friend was grinning like a madman despite the outrage that emanated from the crowd.
"Let her come forward!" the head priest bellowed above the uproar. The other priests jumped into action and formed a protective circle around the woman. Peeta watched the woman with disbelief still in his eyes, gauging her reaction to what had just happened. The hint of fear and confusion in her eyes as hands reached out to touch her as she passed had Peeta clenching his teeth.
The moment she stood front and center before him, the court finally settled and all eyes were upon them. The priests continued their exultant chanting as the white light that had followed her to the dais now enveloped him in its warm glow as well.
"My lord," he heard Seneca behind him, his tone expectant as if prompting him into action. "Present her."
Despite all the thoughts racing through his mind, Peeta was somehow able to recall the ceremonial words. He stared down into the woman's wide eyes and then carefully reached for her. When she did not flinch from his intention, he laced his fingers through hers in a firm grip.
Her bravery was to be commended, for she had remained calm and collected throughout the entire ordeal. But did she truly understand the fate that had now befell them? Or was she in shock, blindly following his lead? Not that it mattered, for their lives were forever changed from this night forward.
"My Eternal," he whispered, and she only looked back at him with curious eyes.
He raised his free hand to silence the room and then looked out to the stunned faces of the nobles. With a steady voice, he addressed them. "The Goddess of Light has blessed me, for she has granted unto me an Eternal. Light be with me, for now, and forevermore."
Turning his attention back to his Eternal, she peered up at him with wide eyes but there was something hidden beneath the uncertainty he found there. Lifting their entwined hands, he brushed his lips across her knuckles, and her sudden intake of breath sent pleasure rippling through him. The sensation was unexpected yet…welcome. However, now was not the time to dwell over it, and at the clearing of Seneca's throat behind them, Peeta faced the crowd.
Raising their hands high into the air, he felt a slight tremble coursed through her arm. The room was silent for a single breath, but then erupted into a mixture of wild cheers and screams as the guards formed a protective line below the dais. At the helm was Finnick, his shoulders shaking as though he couldn't contain his mirth.
"This is most unexpected," he heard Seneca mutter behind him, disbelief still present in his voice. "What will the King say when he learns of this?"
The corner of Peeta's mouth lifted. "What can he say or do? The decree of the Goddess of Light is irrefutable, even by the King himself."
For he had found her at last.
His Eternal.
Author's Note: So this one will be an alternating POV however not with every chapter, but I hope you enjoy both perspectives. For anyone who has read my other works, things are going to move along a lot quicker with this story, no mutual pining for chapters on end here! I was going to hold off on mentioning this until a later chapter so as not to spoil anything for anyone, but this storyline is inspired by a book called Betrothed by Jill Myles. I wouldn't consider it a cross-over, but there are numerous nods to canon from both stories and I hope you enjoy the creative liberties I've taken.
Special thanks to Louezem for prereading and to deinde-prandium for her wonderful beta skills! Any mistakes your find are all mine.
On another note, this has been the first new multi-chapter story that I've published in years. I took a hiatus from writing because work and real life just got too busy, but I realized something was missing and that was the distraction that writing allowed me when life was getting too hectic. I write for myself and to hopefully bring others joy, and putting my favorite pairing together in various scenarios and allowing them to still find each other is my happy place.
When I write and share it with you all, I have no expectation that what I'm producing is Pulitzer prize worthy. Will there be plot holes? Probably. Will there be things that you might not get right away? Most likely. Will I gloss over things that aren't really necessary for the storyline? Guaranteed. Will I reveal everything in the first chapter? Heck no.
I write fanfiction for a reason, and it's to escape and allow others to escape along with me. So when I invite feedback going forward, please take that to mean "if you liked this, I invite you to share your thoughts on why". When I invite feedback, please do not take it as an open invitation to critique and point out why things aren't working for you. Writing is not my day job, and I'm not looking to become a professional author.
When a writer puts something out there, keep in mind that it may have taken that writer years, and endless hours of writing and editing and rewriting to get something to where they actually want to share it. Please don't detract from that person's joy and confidence in writing by leaving reviews that pick the story apart in a way that is not at all encouraging or helpful.
The majority of you readers are lovely and I appreciate your kind words and really enjoy interacting with you, so please do not take this as a sign to not do so any more. All I ask is that anyone who finds fault with my writing or story to please either move on if you don't have something nice to say, or kindly ask me to clarify something if you're genuinely interested. As much as I'd like to think I have a thick skin when it comes to writing, all it takes is reading something when you're feeling low for doubt to set in and turn someone's hobby into a burden. So this is me setting my boundaries, please respect them.
Now that I have that out of the way, thanks for reading and if you liked this chapter and this story, I'd love to hear your thoughts on where things are headed!
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