12Pieces and Players
Part 1
On the train, he's left alone with his thoughts. So much so that he eventually begs for a distraction. But Leevy, his district partner, wants nothing to do with him, Haymitch Abernathy prefers drinking to mentoring, and Effie Trinket is too busy fawning over the president's granddaughter with the rest of the staff.
This isn't how it's supposed to be. He should be at the bakery with Prim and his father. And he should be icing cookies and kneading dough.
But life isn't so kind.
Along with everyone else, Peeta Mellark surprised himself when he volunteered for his older brother. Peeta has never had a close relationship with his two older brothers. He's never felt protective of them like he has of his younger sister, Prim, but it was Bannock's last reaping. Also, Peeta knew how excited Bannock was to marry his girlfriend from town. Bannock had so many opportunities ahead of him, so when his name was called at the Reaping, Peeta volunteered in a heartbeat, and now he is on the fast track to the Capitol.
To his death.
Peeta wants to stay alive, but he knows the odds aren't exactly in his favor. He's desperate to ask Haymitch for advice on how to prolong his lifespan, but the drunkard seems less than interested in giving it.
He'll be in the Capitol in two days, and from there, it will be straight to his prep team for the Tribute Parade, followed by training, then interviews, and finally the Hunger Games.
He wants to pretend it's not real. He wants to go to bed and wake up back in District 12. He's had nightmares about going into the Hunger Games before. Maybe this is just another one of those to wake up from at any time.
"Peeta, dinner!" Effie calls.
He slumps visibly. He may be living a nightmare, but there is no waking up from this.
The grandeur of the Capitol is overwhelming, to say the least. Everywhere he looks, gems glisten in the light, whether it's the crystal chandeliers, the porcelain sinks, or the diamond-encrusted dinner plates. Everything is so elaborate, more so than anything he could have imagined.
And once they enter the Capitol, perhaps Haymitch grows increasingly aware of the dire circumstances because he's suddenly eager to offer advice.
"You shouldn't have any problem getting sponsors," Haymitch tells him. "You already stand out from the crowd, volunteering for your brother and all, so just milk the audience at the Tribute Parade tonight. You're naturally charismatic, that's in your favor, that friendliness could even get you some allies in the arena."
"Do you know if I already have sponsors?"
The older man shrugs. "Maybe a couple, if any, but it's early on. At this stage, people usually sponsor the tributes from Districts 1 and 2."
He's a little put down by this information, but honestly he expects it. After all, the Careers, as these tributes are referred to, win more often than not.
"Do you have any special skills?" Haymitch asks.
"No, not really. I mean, I wrestled a little in school, but that won't do much good."
"Don't underestimate hand-to-hand combat. That's what it usually comes down to for the Grand Finale."
Peeta shivers at, what he thinks, is Haymitch's callous use of Grand Finale, but it makes sense. After all, the Capitolites take their entertainment in watching District children fight to the death.
He thinks of his sister at the Parade. She's twelve years old, eligible for the Reaping herself, and remembering when he used to walk her to school is the only way to put a smile on his face for the people watching.
Leevy's stylist, Cinna, suggests that the two of them hold hands, so they comply, and the crowd goes wild. He uses his other hand to wave at the audience and blow kisses to the crowd. When he looks straight ahead, he sees the Presidential family, although at this point they're not much of a family, just President Snow and his granddaughter, Katniss.
Katniss's mother, President Snow's only child, died suddenly when Katniss was four years old, and rumor has it, no one knows the identity of Katniss's father. There was some speculation when her mother first got pregnant, but it's not a topic that comes up much anymore.
Katniss Snow, unlike her grandfather, is popular in the districts. She's known not just because of who her grandfather is, but because of her astounding physical beauty and melodic voice. Known as the "Girl on Fire", she's a fashion icon, and Peeta is sure he knows everything there is to know about her from the hours Prim's spent incessantly rattling on about the alluring, the effervescent, the awe-inspiring Girl on Fire.
Katniss stands beside her grandfather now, and even though he knows she isn't staring at him, he still can't escape the feeling that she is, her grey eyes analyzing him, seeing through to his soul. The white dress she wears shines in contrast with her olive skin, a complexion that must have been inherited from her father since no one else in the Snow family has ever shared that skin tone.
Her grey eyes match a silver charm bracelet on her wrist. She wears it to every public event, in every photo shoot, not even taking it off for her musical performances. There's a lot of speculation as to what the charms could represent.
Remembering what Haymitch said about milking the crowd, Peeta blows Katniss a kiss, an act the audience loves in itself, but they love it even more when Katniss pretends to catch his kiss and blows him one in return. It's almost like they planned it. Almost like a team.
Of course they're not a team, he's reminded when her grandfather begins his speech. Peeta can hardly stand to hear President Snow praise "their honor, their courage, and their sacrifice." Leevy scoffs beside him, and Peeta nods subtly in agreement.
Peeta holds out hope for discovering he has a special knack for something during training. However, this hope fades within the first couple of days.
Haymitch doesn't want him showcasing his strength in front of the other tributes, so he mostly sticks to other stations like camouflage and survival skills. He knows a thing or two about plants since him mother grew up as an apothecary in town, and his friend, Gale, has told him about snares over the years while trading.
But other than this, he doesn't know much. He's useless with a bow and arrow, and his precision is lacking when it comes to throwing knives. He can wield a sword, at least, and has decent control with a machete, which is more than can be said for his district partner. He notices the stations that are frequented by the Careers and sighs when the girl from District 2 sticks a knife in the target with perfect accuracy. His machete is going to have to do.
He's the last one to for his interview, so Haymitch puts more pressure on him to make an impression. If the reactions from the audience and the genuine amusement on Caesar Flickerman's surgically-altered features are anything to go by, he succeeds.
"Now, Peeta," Caesar says once the audience's hollers die down a little bit. "One last thing before you go. Your brother, Bannock, you volunteered for him?"
"Yes."
"And he's your older brother, is he not?"
"Yeah, he's my older brother. It was his last reaping, and he has these plans to get married and start a family, plans that I don't have at the moment, so I figured I'd go in his place."
"But what about you, Peeta? What do you mean you don't have plans for the future? There's no special girl at home?"
"Nothing to report on that front," Peeta says good-naturedly.
"Come on. I don't believe it for a second. Handsome man like you."
"I guess I just haven't met her yet."
The crowd cheers again as Caesar replies, "Here's what you do, Peeta." He leans in real close and clasps his hand on Peeta's shoulder, like they're old friends sharing a secret. "You go out there, and you win this thing, and you'll have the women of District 12 falling at your feet."
Somehow the thought fills Peeta with dread instead of hope. He doesn't get to reply before his time runs out, so both he and Caesar thank the audience and take a bow. Peeta's able to get a good look at the audience for the first time, and his eyes are drawn to the highest level of the stadium, an area reserved for the Presidential family and their guests. But President Snow rarely attends, so Katniss Snow stands in the reserved level by herself.
She must notice him staring up at her because she blows him a kiss and gestures towards the audience, and Peeta almost sighs in gratitude at her reminder to play the crowd. He tries to catch her eye again and offer a smile, but when he looks back up, she's already gone.
He feels the adrenaline pumping through his veins; his breaths get heavier from the anticipation with every second that passes on the countdown. He takes in his surroundings. He doesn't know how to survive in the woods, but then again, he probably wouldn't know how to survive in any environment the gamemakers provided.
He doesn't know much outside of his father's bakery, but he knows he has a lot of the other tributes intimidated by him. Whether that's something to be proud of, he isn't sure. Especially because it means he's a threat to the Career pack.
By the time the countdown's finished and the gong has sounded, he can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
At first, he keeps his eyes on Leevy and rolls his eyes when he sees her dash towards the Cornucopia. That was one thing Haymitch warned the two of them against.
He, too, disregards Haymitch's advice when he sees a sword that seems to be hidden from the eyes of the tributes around him. He quickly grabs the sword, and when he turns around he sees that Leevy's been killed by Marvel, the boy from District 1. Peeta thinks about running as fast as he can towards the woods, but he sees Cato stalking towards him out of the corner of his eye. He wracks his brain for any form of a plan. He can't flee now; he'll have to fight.
He points to Leevy's dead body. "Hey, man, thanks for taking care of her. Saved me the trouble."
Marvel actually laughs, a lively sound, though his eyes possess the cold-hearted gleam of a killer. He's reminded of a snake. He's reminded of President Snow.
"No problem, Bread Boy," he says. "It was my pleasure."
"Can't believe you stuck around, Twelve," Cato pipes up. "Doesn't happen most years."
"Most years outlying districts don't have volunteers," the girl from District 1, Glimmer, interjects. She eyes him suspiciously. "You must think you have a shot at winning."
Peeta shrugs. "I might have a skill or two."
"Skills that we don't have?" Cato's district partner, Clove, asks, appearing disinterested while she twirls one of her knives between her fingers.
"Don't know. How are you guys with hunting?"
They hesitate to answer, which is all Peeta needs to know. Finally, Cato settles with asking, "Why? Are you any good at it?"
Peeta lies. "Sometimes stray animals come in from the woods in 12. You have to know how to catch and kill them."
"So you can set traps, too?"
"Oh, yeah," he says, confident on the outside, though he's glad they can't see how fast his heart beats with each lie he tells. He just needs a plan, and he hates to admit he needs the Careers. He won't survive one night without them. There's safety in numbers, and no one would dare take on five tributes at once.
"Well, then," Glimmer begins. "Let's go see if we can find any of the injured ones that might have gotten away."
Cato snorts. "I never leave my injured well enough to crawl," he snarls, walking ahead of them to take the lead.
He stops by Peeta. "By the way, 12, that's my sword."
Peeta wants to shudder but manages an amiable smile instead. He eyes the weapon in Cato's grasp. "Good, because that's my machete."
They trade weapons, and just like that, Peeta Mellark in a Career.
He sees the flames a second before Cato does and inwardly curses whoever started the fire. But he can't say anything now. Now he has to follow his four allies deeper into the starlit woods.
Cato leads the way. Peeta wasn't surprised when Cato asserted himself as the leader of the pack, but he doesn't know if the others realize it yet. And when they do realize it, Peeta wonders if there will be some kind of power struggle. He thinks there might be, considering the overall instability of his cohorts. And if there is a power struggle, he decides, that will be his time to make a run for it.
They arrive to discover it's the girl from District 8 that started the fire. She screams when they find her. She screams loudly. Peeta doesn't understand why she screams since there's no one coming to her rescue. Surely, she knows that by now. Still, the sound causes Peeta distress.
He watches with a carefully-kept casual expression as Cato plunges his sword into her abdomen and draws it out slowly, while the girl's screams die down to an occasional groan of agony.
When she stops making noise altogether, the group takes off.
After a few minutes of walking, Cato says, "Wait, I didn't hear a cannon."
Marvel's unconcerned. "Come on. We all saw it. She has to be dead."
"Well, I didn't hear a cannon."
Ever the peacemaker, Peeta intervenes. He wants a power struggle, but not yet. It's still too early into the Games. "I'll go back and check," he says. When his group members nod their consent, he practically races towards the young girl.
She's lying limply on the ground, but based on the obvious rise and fall of her chest, she is still alive. Peeta remembers some of the injuries his mother treated when he was younger and sits the girl up against a tree and takes note of the wound.
The embers of the fire are dying along with her, and the stars don't offer much by way of light. But from what he can see, he realizes Cato likely pierced her intestines. It's a painful, drawn out death. There isn't anything he can do to help her.
The girl opens her eyes when Peeta takes her hand in his. She doesn't make any effort to speak, but she's able to communicate what she's thinking through her eyes. She clearly conveys her pain, and her eyes beg for mercy. He bets she can read what his eyes say, too. She knows there's no saving her. Now she wants to be put out of her misery, so Peeta leans forward and kisses her forehead tenderly, whispering, "I'm sorry."
Then he slits her throat. A cannon goes off within seconds. The noise startles him, and he jumps up, preparing to return to the others waiting for him. He looks down at himself and sees her blood on his jacket, something the others would most likely find pride in. He plasters a crazed look on his face right before he meets the group. When he reaches them, they all look at him expectantly.
Peeta declares as gleefully as he can muster, "She's dead now."
He wakes to the frantic screams of his allies, followed by a stinging pain in his legs and face. Looking around, he concludes that a tracker-jacker nest must have fallen on them. Then he looks to the branches and sees the twelve-year-old girl from District 11, Rue, clinging to one of the higher branches and shouting at Peeta to run. It's the last thing he registers before he loses his grip on everything.
There's a mockingjay song in the distance. He's not sure how he knows this since he's never really been around mockingjays, but it's the first thought that pulls him from unconsciousness. When he wakes up fully, he notices herbal dressings on his stings, and there isn't much pain left in the wounds at all.
A rustling in the bushes has him reaching for the machete that's been placed beside him. But then he catches a glimpse of the girl's curls over the top of the bush and relaxes his grip.
"Come on out, Rue," he calls to her. "Rue, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm putting down my weapon right now, okay?"
She comes out from behind the bushes quietly. She's still cautious, obviously wary of him. But Peeta can tell she's curious too, and it's her curiosity that reminds him so much of his little sister, Prim. The two girls couldn't look any more different physically; Rue's big, brown eyes and dark hair are a far cry from Prim's blue irises and blonde waves. Still, that look of innocent curiosity has him longing for home now more than ever.
"Thank you for taking care of me while I was out," he tells her gently, sincerely.
"I'm sorry I dropped that tracker jacker nest on you," she says, and her voice is soft.
"Don't be," he says. She smiles. "So how long was I out?"
"Two days."
"Oh, that's not too bad. Tell you what, though, I'm starving."
Her smile widens. "Me, too."
"Well, then, why don't we go see if we can find ourselves some food."
She follows him closely, and her knowledge of edible plants impresses him. And although plants may satisfy him for now, he knows Rue hasn't had a scrap of meat since they came into the arena. He was fortunate enough to have had some beef jerky in one of the backpacks at the Cornucopia. So he sets a snare, poorly – he can hear Gale's voice criticizing him in the back of his head.
"We can check it in a few hours," he assures her.
"Okay."
"Hey, Rue, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Why'd you save me?"
She doesn't hesitate in her answer. "I saw you with the girl from 8. I was up in the tree, but the fire made it easy. I saw how you held her hand and told her you were sorry. That's how I knew you were playing the Careers. You're smart, Peeta. I don't remember anyone ever trying to play the Careers."
"Well, it was either join them or be killed by them at that point," he says dryly. "But now I have you. And you seem to know how to navigate trees."
"I spent a lot of my days in them," she informs him proudly.
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I don't know the first thing about them."
She laughs. "That's okay. We can sleep on the ground tonight. I didn't want to before, but now the Careers are camped out by the Cornucopia, and I have you to protect me."
"Yeah, you do," he promises, and it's then that Peeta decides he'd die for Rue.
He'd give his life to let this young, innocent girl win. This girl who skips along the dirt on their way to check the snare. This girl who picks a couple flowers that catch her eyes and tucks them behind her ears. This girl who ducks behind him when she thinks she hears another tribute. Yes, Peeta wants this girl to win.
But she doesn't win.
He doesn't feel good about separating when she proposes the idea, but Rue promises she'll hide in the trees once she finishes lighting the fire to lure the Careers from the Cornucopia, just to give Peeta enough time to destroy their resources.
He watches every Career disappear upon the sight of smoke, but he doesn't move to action until the girl from District 5 slips through the landmine trap set aside with the aid of the boy from District 3. He carefully studies the girl's movements and mimics them himself. He's terrified when he goes to try. He's been clumsy in the past; he can't be clumsy now.
He retrieves apples from the Cornucopia, simple enough for him to throw a great distance, strong enough to set off one of the mines. When he judges he's at a safe enough distance, he hurls one of the apples towards a mine. One triggers another and soon after, all of the Careers' resources have been destroyed.
Peeta's exhilarated. His part of the mission's held up; he only hopes Rue's went as smoothly. But when Peeta returns and whistles the signal Rue taught him, there isn't a reply at first.
Then, he hears Rue calling for him desperately, and Peeta takes off running, only to find her caught in a net. He cuts her loose immediately, and she hugs him tightly, holding on to him like her life depends on it, curling her fingers into his shoulder blades and thanking him profusely. He drops a kiss to the top of her head for comfort. When she lets go of Peeta, he decides to salvage what they can of the net.
He looks up to the sound of an object piercing the air, followed by Rue's sharp intake of breath. He turns to her and sees a spear through her abdomen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Marvel begin to flee, but the boy trips in his haste, giving Peeta the time to send his machete through Marvel's back, debilitating him until Peeta's ready to finish him off.
He quickly returns his attention to Rue, who's pulled the spear from her body, and he remembers his mother saying that taking the blade out only makes the wound worse. The blade's the only thing keeping the blood in the body.
"Peeta," she cries.
He feels tears stinging the backs of his own eyes, but he has to hold it together for Rue. He cradles her against his chest, smoothing her hair out with one hand and rubbing her back in small circles with the other.
"You did great today, Rue," he praises. "You lit the fire, and they scattered. Made it really easy for me to wreck everything."
"So you did then? You destroyed the Cornucopia?"
"Every last scrap."
"I don't want to leave you here all alone, Peeta."
"You won't leave me."
She looks at him skeptically.
"You won't," he repeats adamantly, because even though she's dying in his arms, he'll never forget her. He'll never let her leave him.
A sweet-sounding song gets his attention.
He jostles Rue gently. "You hear that, Rue?" he asks. "You hear the mockingjay song? They're singing for you."
"There's a little song back in 12," he continues. "I won't sing it for you because as Prim likes to remind me, I'm completely tone deaf, but I'll just say the words real quietly."
He recites the lyrics like he is telling a soothing bedtime story: Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow, lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes, and when again they open, the sun will rise. Here it's safe. Here it's warm. Here the daisies guard you from every harm. Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true. Here is the place where I love you.
Rue's cannon goes off before Peeta can recite the second verse. He looks down at Rue's body in his arms, noticing the flowers in her hair once again. He looks forward and finds the bush where she originally picked the flowers. He carefully extricates himself from her and picks enough flowers to outline her body, memorializing her. He clasps her hand one more time before returning to where he paralyzed Marvel.
Peeta's surprised that the other Careers haven't come to help him. Maybe they want to get rid of him now, especially with his district partner killed when the tracker jacker nest fell on them.
Marvel's barely alive with Peeta's machete sticking out of his back. Peeta grabs the handle and pulls the knife out. Then, he turns the boy over and stabs him through the chest. He tries not to grimace when he's met with resistance. He can't even bring himself to look at Marvel's face while he kills him. He keeps telling himself that this has to be done.
A cannon goes off almost immediately. Peeta pulls his machete out again and runs away from both bodies as fast as he can. When he looks down, he sees Marvel's blood on his machete. He almost vomits, and the tears he had held back now cloud his vision.
When he finally has to rest, he sits by the river deep in the woods and decides he want to wait it out and lay low for as long as possible. He doesn't want to act unless he has to.
Thresh from 11, Rue's district partner, kills Clove. Cato kills Thresh. Poison berries take the ever-elusive girl from District 5, and then it's just Peeta and Cato.
Haymitch was right not to underestimate physical strength because when it comes down to it in the Grand Finale, it's years of wrestling and tossing flour that sends Cato hurtling off the Cornucopia towards a pack of genetically-engineered mutts.
And just like that, Peeta Mellark is the victor of the 74th annual Hunger Games.
When he wakes, all evidence of what he's been through has disappeared. In fact, every imperfection on his body has been removed, all the way down to the burn scars on his hands from years of braving the bakery ovens.
He has the replay with Caesar Flickerman this afternoon, where he has to relive everything and gauge his reactions for the whole of Panem. It's absolute hell.
After the replay, he and his prep team are whisked away to the president's mansion for President Snow to crown him as victor, and then they'll share a celebratory dinner.
Katniss Snow is present for his 'coronation', nothing out of the ordinary; as the president's only remaining family, she's present at most of these functions. She comes up to him afterwards, and even though he knows she's Katniss Snow and she knows he's Peeta Mellark, they still formally introduce themselves to the other.
"Katniss Snow."
"Peeta Mellark, It's an honor to meet you."
"Likewise."
"My sister is such a big fan of yours," he tells her, and she blushes.
"Prim, right?" He must look confused that she knows his sister's name because she elaborates. "You mentioned her to Rue a couple of times in the Games."
He sobers immediately at the thought of Rue and nods. "Sometimes I forget other people saw those."
She offers a smile and looks down at her dress, removing a golden pin from her collar. "Here," she says, handing the pin to him. "For your sister."
Peeta takes the pin in his hand and studies it. "It's a mockingjay," she tells him.
"Thank you. Prim will love it."
Katniss looks nervously over her shoulder and quickly throws her arms around Peeta's neck, embracing him tightly. The action surprises Peeta, but he's quick to reciprocate.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers in his ear.
He's taken aback, for her comment rubs him the wrong way. She's sorry? For what exactly, she never says, and he doesn't want the sympathy of a Capitolite, least of all the President's granddaughter.
He doesn't get to reply, though, because the President's staff comes in and alerts them that dinner is ready. With Effie, Haymitch, Portia, the Snows, and his prep team, they are a party of nine. He sits beside Haymitch who takes a seat next to Katniss at dinner, and the familiarity between the two of them intrigues Peeta. He doesn't know what the two of them could ever have to talk about or when they would even have the opportunity to talk.
"How's your alcohol supply doing in District 12, Mr. Abernathy?" President Snow asks, and whenever he speaks, the rest of the table falls silent.
"Could always use more, sir."
"Katniss will see to it that you have more delivered."
"Enough to keep you warm through the winter," Katniss adds with a pleasant smile.
"Excellent," Haymitch says, and an avox pours him another drink.
"Mr. Mellark, how does it feel to be a victor?" President Snow asks him, and a pointed look from Haymitch tells him not to answer honestly.
"It feels wonderful, Mr. President. Quite the honor."
"Katniss, dear, what do you think of our new victor? Handsome young man, isn't he?"
"Yes, Grandpa," she answers somewhat tersely. Haymitch tenses beside him, too. "He is."
"Mr. Mellark," Snow goes on to say, "if it's no trouble, I'd like to have a word with you in my office after dinner."
"It's no trouble, sir."
A servant enters a minute later with a man who Peeta recognizes as Seneca Crane, the head gamemaker.
Seneca greets everyone at the table, but his real purpose is clear in the way his eyes lustfully rake over Katniss's body.
"Mr. Crane, always a pleasure," Snow says.
"Forgive me, President Snow. When Katniss and I made this arrangement, we had no way of knowing it would fall on the night of Peeta Mellark's victory dinner."
"Oh, that's right. You two have a date tonight." The way Snow lingers on the word 'date' leaves an acerbic taste in Peeta's mouth.
"Yes," Seneca says. "Although I hate to steal her from you."
"It's no problem. Katniss, make your goodbyes."
Everyone stands to embrace Katniss on her way out. When Katniss hugs him, she whispers something else in his ear, something that gives him more cause for alarm.
"Don't refuse him," she warns before moving along to hug Haymitch. Peeta sees Haymitch whisper something in her ear, and his curiosity is roused a million times over. He's sure there's more to Katniss Snow than meets the eye.
The lack of color in President Snow's office is stifling. The white walls and white carpets aren't the least bit inviting, but they make the room look sterilized, reminding him of the overwhelming sight of the hospital he was treated in after the Games.
He wonders if he's paranoid because sitting here while waiting for Snow to have a word with him, he feels like he's being watched. He feels like the cameras are still on, and Panem is watching his every move.
And when Snow enters, Peeta feels even worse.
"Mr. Mellark, I'm glad we are able to take the time to have this little chat."
"As am I, President Snow."
"Now, I have something very specific I want to discuss with you."
"I'm all ears," Peeta says good-naturedly.
"You're a victor now, and as I'm sure you're aware, victors have a certain responsibility to the people of Panem."
"Yes, sir."
"The citizens of Panem idolize their victors," he elaborates. "And idolization leads to fixation which breeds obsession."
Peeta nods, not quite following what the President is insinuating.
"Oftentimes, in seventy-four years, the games produce a physically attractive victor. You are one of those."
"Thank you, sir."
"The purpose of this meeting is to inform you of the arrangement in place for attractive victors since they are in high demand."
"I don't think I understand," Peeta says.
President Snow smiles wickedly, like he enjoys watching Peeta squirm. "There's quite a business in selling victors to infatuated patrons."
Finally, Peeta understands. He wishes he didn't, but he does. Katniss's words from earlier echo in his head: "Don't refuse him."
"Of course, this is completely your choice," says Snow. "You are free to refuse the offer, but keep in mind what could potentially happen if you do, in fact, refuse."
"And what could potentially happen?" Peeta asks carefully.
"The ovens in your family's bakery, they're gas-powered, are they not?" Peeta doesn't reply; President Snow already knows the answer. "Such a shame with gas-powered ovens. They're so prone to accidental explosion. And if your family happened to be inside the bakery when such an event took place…well that would be a tragedy."
Peeta feels his palms sweating in his lap. "Well, then it's a good thing we won't have to worry about that since I'll be accepting the offer," he says coolly.
Snow smiles again, this time like an animal examining his prey. More specifically, like a snake determining when to strike. "I like you, Peeta," he says.
And although Peeta wants to be as far away from this man as possible, the president's admission of fondness calms him ever so slightly.
"You won't give me any trouble now, will you, Peeta?"
"No, sir."
"Then I think we understand each other. Now as for the arrangement, you will have the same tour schedule as Finnick Odair. I'm sure he'll be able to show you the ropes."
"Tour schedule?"
"Why, of course. You are to report to the Capitol for two weeks every other month beginning this September. That's fourteen nights each tour, each night to be spent with the highest bidder. Haymitch will accompany you."
"He will?"
"He is your mentor after all. Your nights with each patron will take place in a predetermined setting; most decide on a hotel, but some will prefer other locations. Since you have a significant gap between your visits, everything will be taken care of before you arrive. Mr. Abernathy will have a list of your patrons, and Miss Trinket will also be present to make sure everything goes according to schedule. Mr. Odair's team does the same for him."
Finnick Odair.
Peeta was so caught up with the explanation of the tour schedule that he hardly gave the District 4 victor another thought. But now that he is brought up again, Peeta wonders if the people of Panem will see him as they see Finnick, a sex symbol. Even in the districts, Finnick Odair has a playboy reputation. He doesn't want the same for him. Perhaps he still has the opportunity to create a different image for himself.
"Will I see you on the tours, sir?"
President Snow hesitates before he finally says, "As long as you cooperate, Mr. Mellark, we won't see each other again until your Victory Tour this winter."
Peeta extends his hand. "Then I suppose I'll see you this winter. Thank you, sir, for your generosity."
President Snow's cold hand clasps his own, and Peeta nearly shivers. Winter is closer than he'd like.
He longs for home. The two days spent on the train back to District 12 seem to drag on forever. One afternoon while he and Haymitch are both lounging in the dining car, he thinks to ask about the 'arrangement', as President Snow called it. Surely, Haymitch has been made aware of his responsibilities as well.
But Peeta can't bring himself to address the topic. Instead, he reaches for the mockingjay pin in his breast pocket and cradles the token in the palm of his hand.
"What was that you whispered in Katniss's ear before she left with Seneca?" he asks.
Haymitch quizzically raises and eyebrow and his mouth curves upwards in amusement. "What'd she say to you?" he counters.
"She was giving me advice. There, I answered your question. So what were you two talking about? You and Katniss don't seem like you'd have anything in common. With how you treat Effie, I thought Katniss would be the same."
"Yeah, I'm going to insult the president's granddaughter in front of him," utters Haymitch sarcastically. "But I have known Katniss since she was born. I've been around a while, Boy. I even danced with her mother during my Victory Tour."
"So you two are like old friends?"
"Katniss and I have an arrangement," his mentor supplies, and Peeta's stomach drops. There's that word again.
"What kind of arrangement?"
"Boy, stop asking questions. I can't answer everything at once. Just accept things for now. Accept that not everything is what is seems. You'll find out why soon enough."
Peeta doesn't say anything in reply, but he is frustrated with the cryptic answer he's received.
The district welcomes him back as he steps off the train. They're overjoyed; District 12 hasn't had a victor since Haymitch won the Games twenty-four years ago. A whole generation has grown up without the aid of the shipments of food from the Capitol. They're more than ready for the shipments.
Peeta takes up residence a couple of houses down from Haymitch in Victor's Village. They're alone in the neighborhood, and Peeta wonders how Haymitch has managed it for twenty-four years. The solitude would be enough to drive him insane.
His father doesn't want to leave the apartment above the bakery for the sake of convenience, but his mother and Prim don't mind going back and forth between the two places. He's the happiest to be reunited with Prim, and she has so much to tell him about what he missed while he was gone.
"And Gale's teaching Rory how to hunt and trade some now. Rory's so proud to be contributing. And Hazelle let me come over and watch Vick and Posy while she was running errands and Gale and Rory were out in the woods," she recounts. "I was afraid they wouldn't like me at first."
"That's impossible."
"No, it's not."
"Young children are so easy to win over."
"No, Peeta, young children are the most opinionated," she says pointedly.
He smiles fondly at his sister. "Whatever you say."
"You know, Peeta, I'm really happy you're back."
"I'm happy to be here with you, too." He's only ever happy when he's with Prim.
Bannock marries his girlfriend that August, a couple weeks after Peeta's return. Bannock tells him he can come to the toasting if he's feeling up to it, and Peeta agrees to join his family, even though he isn't completely focused on the wedding the entire time.
During the toasting, Peeta ponders wryly if his life will ever return to normal. Since his return, nightmares from his experiences in the Games plague him every night, and his anxiety for the upcoming arrangement gets stronger with every passing day. No matter how much he tries to forget, the memories return with a vengeance, and he does not succeed in appeasing his stress. The applause of his family and friends snaps him from his thoughts, and Peeta looks up just in time to see Bannock drop a kiss to his wife's lips. The two of them look so happy. It's because of Peeta's sacrifice that the two of them can marry today. The whole country knows that's the case, and Bannock's never even thanked him for it.
And as he and Haymitch board the train to the Capitol that September, he doubts Bannock ever will.
"Do I have to explain your job, or are you pretty aware of what you need to do?" Haymitch asks with a smirk.
Peeta isn't in the mood to joke. "Go away, Haymitch."
"I do need to talk to you about this, you know. You need to understand what's going to happen. You'll have a check-up. They'll test you for any infections. They'll make sure everything's working. They'll give you birth control. The female clients you'll be with have already been screened for diseases and the like. They're on birth control, too, and even still, if you happen to knock any of them up, they've signed a contract acknowledging that you absolutely do not have to be involved with the child and the child's parentage cannot be disclosed."
"Are some of them not female?" Peeta asks.
"Not this go around, which is actually a little uncommon. Sometimes you even get a couple instead of just one person, but maybe they're just trying to break you in because you ended up with all women, one woman three times."
"Three times?"
"She bought three nights," Haymitch explains. "Not all in a row, but she'll be your sixth night, tenth night, and last night. Must be really rich. The last night is always the most expensive."
"How much did she spend?"
"Not sure yet. It's a different amount each night since it's more of an auction."
"What's her name?"
"Not disclosed. Some people want these meetings to be confidential. Not most people, but every once in a while you get one."
"Now you'll have rules to follow," Haymitch continues. "The most important of which is to keep the client happy. The client's bought you; you belong to the client. Your comfort zone does not matter. Your personal preferences, they don't matter. All that matters is that these clients don't have to report you to Snow for defiance. Got it?"
He nods, not trusting himself to form a response.
"Good."
He meets Finnick Odair in person for the first time in the clinic's waiting room. He sits beside a woman named Mags, one of Panem's longest-surviving victors. Mags engulfs him in a hug when she meets him, but Finnick just stares at him appraisingly.
"Finnick Odair," he introduces.
"Peeta Mellark."
"I'm guessing you don't want my sympathy."
"Not when we're in the same situation."
Finnick smiles. "Hate to tell you, but the Capitol's gonna love you."
"Not as much as they love you," Peeta counters.
"We'll see about that."
When he's called back to the doctor, it's a lot like the preparation for the Games, only with more needles. He's poked and prodded, stripped down and examined, lectured and educated.
"Can you describe your sexual activity?"
"Um," Peeta hesitates. "None."
The doctor pauses and stares at Peeta in disbelief. "You have never had sexual intercourse?"
"No, sir."
"Tonight will be your first time?"
"Yes."
The doctor places a box of condoms beside him. "You are aware what these are, yes?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how to use one?"
"Yes."
The doctor hands him a bottle of pills. "These are only to be taken when necessary," he stresses to Peeta.
"What are they for?"
"On occasion, there may be difficulty to keep an erection. These pills will help. I suppose if you have any other questions, you should contact me or reach out to Mr. Odair. He knows the procedure."
"Okay."
"All right then. Good luck, Mr. Mellark."
Peeta nods his head and ducks out of the room.
"So you've been doing this since your Games?" Peeta asks Finnick over lunch. Finnick hasn't made one direct reference to his days of forced prostitution, and Peeta hates to bring it up, but he wants answers, especially from the man who's survived this for the past nine years.
"Since my victory tour."
"How bad is it?" he asks nervously.
Finnick returns with an almost-imperceptible glare. Finnick can't look too unhappy while they're in a public place. He has to keep up his act for any possible onlookers.
"Sorry. I guess that was a stupid question," Peeta says. "Of course it's terrible."
"You think it's terrible," Finnick corrects. "That's all you can do right now; you haven't experienced it yet. But let me tell you how terrible it is. I want you to imagine the worst feeling in the world. I want you to remember what it was like to be in that arena, and you thought that the arena was the worst thing you could ever experience. And believe me when I say that it's not. This is so much worse than anything your mind could have conjured up." His tone isn't biting. He isn't trying to scare Peeta. He's warning him instead.
And Finnick's warning keeps him quiet for the rest of the afternoon. He replays it word for word and remembers the intensity of Finnick's eyes as he goes down the elevator to meet his first patron in the hotel lobby.
Her name is Senalda, and she forces her mouth onto his before he can even introduce himself. She's showered herself in the scent of lavender, which is almost as overwhelming as the woman herself. She's about fifteen years older than Peeta, and her cheeks are littered with rouge. He tries to quench his negative judgments because he has a very specific job to do, but he can't keep the intrusive thoughts at bay. Still, he has to play the part.
"Would you like to get a drink before we go up to our room?" he asks her.
She hums against his skin. "Will you be able to keep up with me later if we do?"
"Senalda, you have nothing to worry about in that department." She really doesn't, not with the pills in his pocket.
"Well, how about we get the drinks delivered to our room? I really want to get started as soon as possible."
"That sounds like an excellent idea."
It's clear that Senalda plans to be in control tonight. The second Peeta unlocks the door to their room, she grabs his tie and pushes him against the wall, assaulting his mouth with hers.
He's barely ever been kissed before, and when he had been, the kisses were short and shy. They were the kisses of curious children on their way to school. Nothing like this kiss now.
She pushes her tongue between his lips, and he has to choke down the urge to vomit. He remembers some of the advice Finnick imparted on him earlier, and he knows there's no way Peeta can bring himself to enjoy this even a little bit, but maybe he can think of something else, distract himself with the assurance that this will be over soon. Once he satisfies her, he will not have to see her again for the rest of the tour.
It's then that he follows her lead, even taking the lead himself when he surprises her with his strength and backs them towards the bed.
"So I'm your first one?" she says against his jaw when her calves hit the edge of the mattress. She falls back against the bed and beckons Peeta to bend down and take her high heels off for her. He complies.
"You are," he answers in what he hopes is a seductive tone. From the wicked smile she gives him, he's succeeded.
She's the first, but the problem lies in that she isn't the last.
"How can you do that every night for two weeks?" he demands desperately from Finnick the following morning after Senalda leaves.
"With a lot of showers," he replies facetiously. "I swear everyone in the Capitol wears too much perfume. I don't think I've met one Capitolite that smelled like a person."
"I'm still not convinced they're people," Peeta mutters while resisting the urge to slam his fist against the dining room table. He realizes anger would do nothing to help him.
"I can still taste her on my tongue," he whispers hopelessly.
Finnick's eyes soften, and the nonchalance leaves his countenance. "Yeah, I know. But you wash that taste out with tonight's girl, and tomorrow you wash her taste out with tomorrow night's girl and the cycle continues until you go back home, scrub every inch of you until there isn't any old skin left, and then you see the people that remind you why you agreed to this in the first place."
"Does it get better?"
His companion shrugs. "I guess it depends. I've been doing this for so long that I can make myself go into a different place in my mind while it's happening, but muscle memory takes over so I'm still keeping my patrons happy."
He continues. "You know, Peeta, I know a girl who's been forced to do this for as long as she can remember. For her, it's so commonplace that she doesn't really think twice about it. I hope it never gets that way for me. I want to remember that what's being done to us isn't right."
"What year did she win?"
"She's not a victor," Finnick informs him in a tone that tells him that's all he's going to say about it.
"And when you're just sitting like we're doing right now, think about your family. Think about Prim and your brothers and your parents. If you've got a tangible link to them, like a token or something, that would be nice. You could just take it out every once in a while and remind yourself that you're keeping them safe right now."
Peeta nods. "But if I screw up, I'll be the one that kills them."
"You won't kill them," Finnick reminds him emphatically. "But don't screw up."
The second woman is a lot more talkative than the first. She wants to have dinner together before they actually get started with anything. And when they do get started, she whispers filthy things into his ear all night long and leaves so many claw marks on his chest. When he looks in the mirror after she leaves, he discovers her teeth also left marks along the expanse of his neck.
From what's been disclosed about the third woman, Peeta knows she's middle-aged, but it's hard to tell under the blue body paint she's wearing. When they go up to the room, she requests for him to wear a layer of red paint she's brought while she puts on another layer of blue paint, so at the end of the night they'll be able to see all the places they made purple.
The fourth woman brings him a solid gold watch. Finnick told Peeta that some of the patrons bring gifts to make them feel better about the process. It's the fourth woman that screams the loudest.
The fifth woman has a thing for bondage. She strips him, ties him to the bed frame with the sheets, and then licks him from head to toe. She spends an eternity drenching him in her saliva. He's in the shower for four hours after she leaves.
He awaits the arrival of the sixth woman anxiously. This is the woman he'll be with for a total of three times on this particular tour. He still doesn't know her name, or anything about her really, just that she doesn't want him to meet her in the lobby. She'll come up to the hotel room by herself.
He sits on the bed while he waits for the knock at the door. When it finally comes, it startles him, and he reluctantly answers it. He opens his mouth to greet her, but when he sees who's behind the door, all words escape him. Funny, he usually has a way with words.
Standing in front of him, hiding under bulky sunglasses and a sunhat that's all the rage this year according to Effie, is Katniss Snow.
She lets herself in and places her sunglasses beside her hat on the dresser. "Good to see you again, Peeta."
"And you, Katniss," he says uncertainly. "But, um, what are you doing here exactly?"
"Thought you could use the night off," she says with a shrug and sits on the bed. "I mean, it is so exhausting. Even I don't see a patron every night for two weeks straight. But then again, I'm always in the Capitol, so I have a little more leniency with my schedule."
"You're…you have to do this, too? You're forced to sell yourself?"
She nods.
"But that doesn't make sense," Peeta protests. "You're the president's granddaughter. Why would he make you do this? I guess I understand me and Finnick, he doesn't care about us, but his own flesh and blood?"
"I know it's a lot to wrap your head around, but we have all night. For now, just enjoy your night of peace. You don't have any obligations tonight," she pauses. "Actually, I take that back. You're obligated to order me food. I can't call downstairs because no one can know I'm here, but you can, and I'm starving."
He laughs in relief when her full meaning sinks in. He's free tonight. He's free because of Katniss. And because of that fact, nothing would make him happier than ordering her dinner. He has a wide grin on his face as he reaches for the phone.
Katniss looks up at him while she begins to braid her hair. "I really like cheese buns," she tells him pointedly.
He orders her an entire tray of cheese buns. When he finishes the phone call, Katniss isn't in much of a talking mood. She turns on the television in the room and spends a few minutes searching before she puts on one of Cinna's fashion shows. She smiles.
"He designed those dresses for me, you know," she says proudly, not obnoxiously as if she were boasting, but like she's honored.
"All of them?" Peeta questions.
Katniss smiles timidly. "Well, not all of them. Just the green ones. Green's my favorite color, so Cinna really wanted to incorporate green into his collection this fall."
"Nice of him."
"Definitely."
Finally, Peeta brings up the topic she seems to want to avoid. "Your grandfather doesn't know you're here?"
Her smile falters, and she hesitantly lowers the volume of the television. "Nope. He doesn't ever really think twice about my schedule. Besides, he's in 2 for the week anyways. Overseeing peacekeepers or something. I have to stay here to hold down the fort."
"Katniss, why does he make you do this?"
She slowly turns towards him, her legs tucked underneath her. Her grey eyes seep into his blue. "For the same reasons he does it to you and Finnick and a few other victors over the years. For control. And to punish me."
"Why would he want to punish you?"
There's a knock on the door before she can reply, or before he can goad her to reply since it's likely she wouldn't tell him. She ducks into the en suite just in case the hotel employee can see her through the crack in the door when Peeta opens it.
"It's safe, Katniss. You can come out now," he says when he closes the door behind the employee.
"Good. I can smell the cheese buns from in here. Don't they smell heavenly?" She grabs one off the plate and breaks it in two before nearly devouring the half in one bite.
Peeta grabs one for himself and takes a bite. "Please. These are nothing compared to the cheese buns we make at the bakery in12."
"Oh, really?" Katniss challenges. "I highly doubt that."
"Well, you've never had Mellark's Bakery cheese buns, so you can't exactly make judgments like that."
Katniss playfully rolls her eyes and picks another cheese bun off the tray between them. "And how is your family?" she asks.
"They're well. Busy with the bakery as always."
"Do they live with you in Victor's Village?"
"Um, no. They visit me a lot, Prim especially, but they decided that it would be too difficult to manage the bakery if they moved."
"Oh," she says in reply, and then she looks embarrassed that that's all she can think to say.
He shrugs. "Yeah. It's not much of a problem, though. At least I've got Haymitch to keep me company."
Katniss laughs. "Because he's so welcoming," she teases. "On the plus side, you'll never want for alcohol again."
"Like he'd ever share."
Katniss jumps off the bed and heads towards the miniature refrigerator near the television. "Do you want anything to drink?" she asks as she helps herself to a glass of water.
"No, thank you. Hang on, Katniss, won't your grandfather find out you bought me for three nights?"
"Nope. He's the richest man in the country. He has so much money that he doesn't notice when a few thousands go missing. I guess that's a good thing for us right now, but really pathetic when you think about the people out in the districts."
"Yeah, I suppose it is."
"And I'm in charge of a lot of the bookkeeping anyways."
"He lets you have that kind of responsibility?"
"He has no reason not to trust me."
"But doesn't he worry you'll hate him after what he's done to you? I'd have a hard time relying on someone I put through hell."
"We all have parts we play. Finnick plays the sex symbol. Haymitch plays the bumbling alcoholic. You play the charming victor, and I play the loving granddaughter. He doesn't suspect me because I've spent years making him think that he's brainwashed me to believe that I deserve what he does to me. He thinks I'm grateful that he does it because I need to be punished."
"What we would he have to punish you for?"
Katniss leans back on the bed and crosses her arms over her chest. "Capitolites are ignorant," she says. "I know you know that, and I'm not saying it's an excuse, but they've been raised to believe everything we say about the districts. They believe that district people are savages and ungrateful and naturally rebellious. And they especially don't believe that Capitolites and district citizens should ever have children.
"My mom broke that rule," she goes on to say.
He rests his weight on his forearms and turns to face her. "So, wait, the reason no one knows your father's identity is because your father's from the districts?" he asks incredulously.
"Want to know which one?"
"Which one?"
"12."
His eyes widen. "Your father's from 12? How is that even possible? There aren't many opportunities for people from 12 to go to the Capitol."
"Here's what makes it worse to my grandfather. My dad was an avox."
"Seriously?"
"Mmm-hmm. He waited on them in the mansion, and somehow he and my mom found a way to communicate."
Peeta's at a loss for words once again. This seems to be a pattern while in the company of Katniss Snow.
"So when my mom died, Grandfather told me I had to be cleansed of my abominable heritage. He said that I needed to be purged of my dad's rebelliousness. He started setting me up with groups of men. I was four years old, so I didn't really think there was anything wrong. I never talked to other kids, so I had no way of knowing it wasn't normal. I felt uncomfortable when the sex actually started when I was eleven.
"And then District 4's Annie Cresta won the 70th Hunger Games when I was twelve."
Peeta briefly remembers the tribute who couldn't handle witnessing her district partner's decapitation. No one's heard much about her since.
"She and Finnick and Mags were at the mansion for Annie's victory dinner, and I guess Finnick must have seen something there to tip him off because he cornered me that winter during Annie's victory tour. He told me how everything that was done to me was certainly not normal and how my grandfather forced him into prostitution, too. We've been looking out for each other like siblings ever since."
"That's always nice to know there's someone looking out for you."
"We could look after each other, too, now that you know," she proposes. "I can't promise anything, but I can try to buy at least one night every time you're here. And you'll be mentoring now, so I can see you every time you're in the Capitol for that."
"Look after each other?"
"Check in with each other, like for support?" Her face flushes under his gaze, and she is so obviously nervous that Peeta can't help but smile.
"Yeah. That sounds like a good idea."
She nods. "And, um, you know I don't have to be here if you don't want me to. You're free for the night, but you're not required to spend it with me."
"Stay," he says softly, so softly she can't hear.
"I beg your pardon."
Peeta nearly laughs at the small reveal of her Capitol upbringing. At least she doesn't speak with a fake accent like a lot of the Capitolites do. "I said stay, Katniss."
"Okay, then I will."
When it comes to their sleeping arrangements, they both reason that the bed is big enough for two. They stick strictly to their individual sides when they first go to bed, but they seek each other out in their sleep. At some point, Peeta wakes in the middle of the night to find Katniss tucked completely against him, and it doesn't bother him at all. On the contrary, it comforts him.
But when he wakes again, a little after the sun rises, the only evidence that she was here is the scent of her perfume on her side of the bed and a note on her pillow that reads: Peeta, I can't wait until next time. I'll see you soon.
So this is different from anything I've ever written before, and this is also my first story for The Hunger Games. Please let me know what you think of it. If any of you are confused with Peeta's sweet mother, in this version, Katniss's father was caught hunting and sent to the Capitol before he ever pursued a romantic relationship with Mrs. Everdeen, so Katniss's mother ended up marrying Peeta's father. Right now, it looks like there will be a total of four parts to this story. I'll have them up when I can. Thank you so much for reading!
Thank you so much to my wonderful beta reader, b-dauntless!