The Victory Tour carried Katniss and Peeta through the districts like a glittering parade, the Capitol's spectacle of forced unity. Each stop was a mixture of rehearsed speeches, strained smiles, and haunting echoes of rebellion just beneath the surface.
When the train pulled into District 3, I felt a strange mix of emotions. My district. My home. But now, it didn't feel like either. The Victors' Village was a lonely, gilded cage, and the city itself had changed since my time in the Games. The once-thriving factories buzzed with tension, the people quieter, more cautious.
Katniss and Peeta were led to a grand plaza to address the crowd. Their speeches were well-practiced but lacked heart, the words falling flat against the gray skies. The people cheered because they had to.
Afterward, the Capitol handlers whisked the pair away to a banquet hall brimming with food most of District 3's citizens would never see. I stayed in the shadows, observing, as I often did.
And then, it happened.
Peeta stood, his voice trembling slightly as he raised his glass. "Before this tour is over, I want to share something with all of you. Something that gives me hope in these uncertain times."
Katniss's eyes widened, her hand frozen mid-reach for her glass.
"I love Katniss Everdeen," Peeta continued, turning to her. His voice softened, the words sounding almost too heavy for the air. "And I want her to be mine forever."
Gasps rippled through the room as he dropped to one knee, a small box in his hand. The Capitol handlers looked thrilled, their expressions like hawks spotting prey.
"Katniss, will you marry me?"
Her hesitation was brief but noticeable to anyone paying attention. Then she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes."
The room erupted in applause, but I couldn't bring myself to clap. Something felt off.
I found myself staring at Peeta. His smile was perfect, his movements natural, but there was something in his eyes—a sadness, a weight that didn't match the moment.
As the night carried on, I kept a careful distance, watching as the couple mingled with the crowd. Finally, I caught Peeta alone, leaning against a railing, his shoulders sagging under the façade he'd been holding up.
I approached him silently, setting up a sound barrier with a subtle flick of my fingers. The wind swirled softly around us, muffling the chatter of the party behind.
"Peeta," I said gently, stepping closer. "What's wrong?"
He flinched, surprised, then glanced at me. For a moment, he looked like he might brush me off, but then his shoulders sagged further.
"Why do you think something's wrong?" he asked, his voice low.
I tilted my head, my ears twitching slightly. "Your eyes. You don't look happy, Peeta. Not really."
He exhaled slowly, his hands gripping the railing tightly. "It's not real," he admitted, the words bitter. "None of it is. This whole tour, this engagement… we're acting."
"Acting?" I frowned, stepping closer.
"The Capitol's watching," he said, his voice heavy with frustration. "They're always watching. If Katniss and I don't play this part, if we don't convince them we're madly in love, our families—our entire district—are at risk."
The weight of his words settled over me like a lead blanket. My chest tightened as I watched him struggle with the burden he carried.
"Peeta," I said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "You're not alone in this. Katniss loves her family, and she'll do what she has to to protect them. But you don't have to carry all this by yourself."
He looked at me, his blue eyes searching mine. For a moment, the mask he wore cracked, and I saw the pain beneath it.
"I don't know how much longer I can do this," he confessed.
"You're stronger than you think," I replied, my voice firm. "And if you need someone to talk to, someone who understands… I'm here."
He gave me a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Emerald."
Raven's voice slithered through my mind, soft and reassuring. "He trusts you. That's a good start."
I stayed by Peeta's side a little longer, offering quiet support. I couldn't fix what the Capitol had done to him, but I could remind him he wasn't alone.
As we returned to the crowd, Peeta's mask slipped back into place, but I noticed the way he glanced at me occasionally, as if drawing strength from our conversation.
The night ended with Capitol-approved fanfare, but I couldn't shake the feeling that the real battle was just beginning.