Chapter Text
The next evening, Haymitch and I walked over to my parents’ house.
My mom opened the door before we could knock, her face beaming like we’d been gone for years instead of a few weeks.
—Maysilee! Haymitch! Come in, come in! Dinner’s almost ready.
She pulled me into a hug, then did the same for Haymitch, who managed a polite smile. Inside, the house smelled like home, there was roast meat, fresh bread, and that underlying sweetness from the shop’s lingering sugar. My dad was at the stove, stirring a pot, while Merrilee set the table with her usual efficiency.
—Hey, sis, —Merrilee said, glancing up with a grin. —You two look like you could use a good meal.
—Oh we do! — I said giving her a hug.
We settled at the table, and soon plates were passed around: stewed rabbit with root vegetables, warm bread, and a side of greens from the market. It was comforting, grounding me in a way the Capitol’s excesses never could. But as we ate, the questions started, just like I knew they would.
My dad leaned back, wiping his mouth with a napkin. —So, tell us about the Capitol this time. What took you so long to come home?
I exchanged a quick glance with Haymitch, who was focused on his plate. —Oh, you know, Dad. We are new victors and just got excluded from festivities while we were minors but… Now that we are older we might be staying in the capitol for a while after the games.
My mom tilted her head, not satisfied. —Come on, love. Is that all? Did you meet new people? Are they weird?
Oh a few, I would like to say. And enumerate all of the weirdness of the people I’ve meet. The Vorans awful stares, the sound of Cintinella’s heels each time she would come to my door to handle food or my routine for the day. Or Berko and that kiss or-
Haymitch cleared his throat, poking at his stew. —It was mostly work. Some older victors gave this reunion after the games where they discuss strategies and stuff, we finally got included this year, that’s all.
Merrilee chimed in, her eyes curious. —But the fashion? We saw you on the tv at Tigris Snow fashion show Maysie! That must have been fire!
I forced a laugh, buttering a piece of bread to avoid her gaze. —Yeah, fire is the word. But honestly, it’s all a blur. We’d rather hear about here, how’s the shop been?
Merrilee didn’t buy it, but they let it drop eventually, shifting to local gossip and shop updates, but I could feel their lingering worry. Haymitch and I stayed evasive, steering away from anything real about the horrors we’d seen or the losses we’d carried. Dinner wrapped up with satisfied sighs, and my mom brought out coffee, strong and sweet, just how we liked it.
We sipped in the living room, the warmth of the cups seeping into my hands.
Haymitch set his down after a while, glancing at me. —You ready to head back, Mays?
I shook my head, meeting his eyes briefly. —No, I’m staying here tonight.
He paused, then nodded without argument. —Alright. Thanks for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Donner. Night, Merrilee.
He left quietly, and the house felt a little emptier.
Merrilee grabbed my arm almost immediately. —Come on, upstairs. Girl talk time.
We climbed to our old shared room, the one with the faded wallpaper and twin beds that still creaked the same way. I flopped onto mine, and she sat cross-legged on hers, fixing me with that sisterly stare. —Okay, Maysie. Spill. What really happened in the Capitol? You’ve been dodging all night.
I sighed, staring at the ceiling. —Merri, I… it disgusts me so much. The whole place, what goes on there. I wish I could tell you everything someday, but not now. Just… stay calm, okay? Nothing’s wrong with me. Everything’s fine.
She reached over and squeezed my hand. —If you say so. But I’m here when you’re ready.
We talked about lighter things until sleep claimed us; Burton finally is talking to his parents about becoming a mayor and they support him so his and Merrilee’s weeding must happen sooner than later, she’s not that fond of the idea of marriage that young but she loves him so what’s with the time anyways.
—-
The next morning, dawn light filtered through the curtains, pulling me awake. The house was quiet, but downstairs, I heard the familiar clatter of baking. I padded down in my pajamas and found my dad at the counter, shaping dough for sweets, his hands dusted with flour.
—Morning, Dad.
He looked up with a warm smile. —Morning, pumpkin. Up early. Want to help?
I nodded, grabbing an apron.
I wanted to cry as we worked side by side, rolling out the dough, this felt nice, felt like home. He glanced at me. —You and Haymitch… everything okay there? He seemed a bit off last night. Or is it Otho still weighing on you?
I paused, cutting shapes carefully. — You know about Otho?
He just laughed. — How could I not? Actually I’m not that clever, but a A pacekeeper did come here once, told me about teach my child how to behave on the woods or else he should inform the boss.
—Dad I promise you we didn’t…
He cuts me before I could explain myself further. —Oh Maysie I know. The only thing I’m going to tell you is to be safe, I gave that peacekeeper a few coins that time and he never came back but who knows, you should be careful.
—Dad I’m sorry that you have to deal with that, I’m really sorry. But there’s nothing to worry about anymore. Me and Otho… we are over, there’s no more us.
Never was after all, is what I want to say.
He nodded thoughtfully, placing a tray in the oven. —Love’s never easy, especially after what you’ve been through.
—That’s the thing, I shouldn’t have started things with him, I must be with Haymitch, that’s how it’s supposed to be.
He freezes for a moment, then he looks at me almost like he is hurt for me. —Oh pumpkin. —he hugged me, and I let a single tear drop. —we don’t choose who we love, that’s life. But whatever’s going on, even if you don’t tell me what happens when you are not here… I hope your life as a victor is bringing you some happiness.. You deserve that much.
His words hit deep, and I hugged him tightly.—Thanks, Dad. I’m trying.
—————
After the warmth of my parents’ house faded into the cool night air, I trudged back to Victor’s Village alone. The path was familiar, lined with overgrown weeds and the distant hum of the mines winding down for the evening. My footsteps echoed softly on the gravel, and for a moment, I let myself breathe in the simplicity of it all. no cameras, no crowds, just the quiet that District 12 offered like a reluctant gift. But as I approached my house, the one that still felt too big and too empty, a knot tightened in my stomach.
I paused at my mailbox, a habit from the Capitol deliveries that sometimes trickled in unannounced. Sure enough, there was something inside: a small, elegantly wrapped box tied with a silk ribbon, and an envelope sealed with wax.
The seal bore a familiar crest, one I’d seen on official Capitol documents. My heart sank.
Berko.
I carried them inside, locking the door behind me before sinking onto the couch in the dim living room light. The box was light, but the envelope felt heavy in my hands. I tore it open carefully, unfolding the crisp paper. The handwriting was refined, almost too precise, and the faint scent of gardenia wafted up.
Dearest Maysilee,
I hope this missive finds you well upon your return to District 12. The Games have concluded, and yet my thoughts linger on our brief encounters in the Capitol. I must confess, I have replayed our conversations in my mind, and one moment stands out with particular regret: the kiss I imposed upon you.
It was impulsive, born of admiration and the heady atmosphere of the festivities, but that is no excuse. I overstepped, and for that, I am profoundly sorry. You deserve respect and autonomy, not the presumptions of a man like me.
Please accept this small token as a gesture of my sincerity; a pearl bracelet, harvested from the rarest waters beyond Panem’s borders. Pearls, they say, symbolize purity and new beginnings. I hope it serves as a reminder that I wish only for your forgiveness and perhaps, in time, your friendship.
If this offends, discard it without a second thought. But if you find it in your heart to respond, know that your words would bring light to my otherwise shadowed days.
With deepest regards,
Berko.
I set the letter down, my fingers trembling slightly. I opened the box, revealing a delicate bracelet of luminous pearls, each one flawless and iridescent. So I slipped it on my wrist, watching it catch the light, It was beautiful, but not in a Capitol way, they were bright but just a singular amount, I could wear them here go unnoticed… I took it off just as quickly. No, not yet.
Sighing, I grabbed a sheet of paper from my desk and a pen. If I was going to respond, it had to be polite but firm. No doors left open for more complications.
Dear Berko,
Thank you for your letter and the bracelet. The pearls are lovely, and I appreciate the thought behind them. As for the kiss… there’s no need to dwell on it. It was a moment in the chaos of the festivities, as you said, and I hold no grudge. Let’s leave it in the past.
Wishing you well,
Maysilee Donner
I sealed it, addressed it to the Capitol, and set it by the door for the next mail pickup.
——————
Weeks passed in a haze, each one blending into the next like the gray skies over District 12. I barely left the house in Victor’s Village, avoiding the central square and the town altogether. The thought of running into Otho, or worse, seeing Lamella -with her swollen belly and that smug look- twisted my stomach into knots. I couldn’t bear it.
So I stayed inside, curtains drawn, pacing the empty rooms or staring at the walls. The only times I stepped out were for those mandatory photo sessions with Haymitch, the ones we had to post on the Capitol’s app to keep up the facade of our “star-crossed” romance. We’d pose in the meadow or by the fence, forcing smiles while some Capitol drone snapped pictures.
Haymitch and I kept it civil, barely speaking beyond “turn this way” or “hold my hand”. Although it wasn’t strange it felt cold.
Occasionally, my parents would drop by with baskets of food from the shop, my mom fussing over me like I was still a child, and my dad offering quiet advice about “finding my footing again.” Merrilee came too, dragging me into conversations about her wedding plans with Burton, trying to pull me out of my shell. Asterid visited a few times, her energy a bright spot in the gloom, sharing gossip from the Seam and urging me to join her for walks. I’d smile and nod, but always found an excuse to stay put. “Next time,” I’d say, knowing I wouldn’t follow through.
One afternoon, I decided to distract myself in the kitchen, experimenting with new recipes to chase away the boredom. I missed the cheese buns from Otho—those fluffy, gooey treats that melted in your mouth—so I was attempting to recreate them with what I had: flour, a bit of cheese from the market, and some herbs from the pantry.
The counter was a disaster, flour everywhere, bowls overturned, and my face smeared with white powder from wiping sweat away. I was kneading the dough when the door creaked open without a knock.
Haymitch stood there, looking surprisingly steady on his feet, no bottle in hand. His eyes scanned the mess, a smirk tugging at his lips.
—What are you inventing in here to turn the kitchen into a disaster and your face into a flour mask?
I wiped my hands on my apron, raising an eyebrow at him.
—What a miracle to see you here completely sober.
He chuckled, stepping inside and leaning against the counter.
—Touché. But seriously, Mays, you need to stop moping around and get some sun. You’re giving everyone pity vibes.
I slammed the dough down harder than necessary, flour puffing up in a cloud.
—I’m not moping, and I’m definitely not giving pity vibes. I’m just… processing. Leave me alone.
He crossed his arms, his expression shifting from teasing to something more serious.
—Processing? You’ve been locked up here for weeks, pretty much hiding, May. Come on, did you even liked him that much?
—What did you just say?!
We stared at each other, the air thick with frustration. Then he held up his hands in surrender.
—Okay, truce. I come in peace. How about I propose a plan instead?
I paused, wiping flour from my cheek.
—What kind of plan?
He grinned, that familiar spark in his eyes.
—Burdock wants to do something special for Asterid, cause it’s been a month since their wedding. I suggested a picnic by the lake. Simple, fun, with everyone.
I couldn’t help but smile a little, remembering our conversation in the Capitol.
—I see where this is going.
—Exactly. I told you we’d make it real. Plus, we should make the most of the last summer days we have left before the chill sets in.
I hesitated, but the idea tugged at me, a break from the isolation, a chance to feel normal. —Fine.—I said finally. —Let’s do it.
————-
That weekend, we gathered by the lake under a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at. The water sparkled, and the ducks quacked obnoxiously in the distance.
Haymitch picked me up very early, slinging a basket of booze and fruits over his shoulder as we walked from the Village. When we arrived, Merrilee and Burton were already there, arms loaded with sweets from the shop. Merrilee was giggling as she unpacked them onto the blanket we’d just spread out, her simple dress fluttering in the breeze.
She and I Were just spreading out a blanket when Asterid and Burdock showed up next, hand in hand, Burdock beaming.
We talked about how being newly weds felt and they showed haymitch and I were did they make the toast.
The boys started a fire in a small pit we’d dug, stacking twigs and kindling to warm some bread. The flames crackled to life, sending up thin curls of smoke that danced in the air. Just as the scent of toasting bread filled the clearing, Blair and Hazelle arrived, Blair carrying a bag with a dead rabbit dangling from it, freshly caught and skinned.
—Hey, folks. —Blair said, a bit awkwardly, setting the bag down. Hazelle stood beside him, twisting her hands in her apron.
We all paused, the old tensions from their past judgments hanging in the air like the smoke. Blair cleared his throat. —Look, before we join… we owe you an apology. Hazelle and I, we were wrong about you two. Calling you Capitol puppets, acting like you didn’t belong… it was stupid. You’ve been through hell, and we’ve seen how you’ve tried to help the district. We’re sorry.
Hazelle nodded, her voice soft. —Yeah. We didn’t understand. But after the Games… we’re grateful for what you do. If you’ll have us.
I glanced at Haymitch, who shrugged subtly. There were worse things happening outside of this—Games, claimants, Snow’s shadows—so why hold onto their hatred? I thought.
—Apology accepted, —I said finally. —Sit down. Let’s eat.
Haymitch nodded. —Yeah, no hard feelings. Pass the rabbit, we’ll roast it.
We ate the food, laughing as juices dripped down our chins. The sun climbed higher, warming our skin, and the lake’s gentle lapping provided a soothing backdrop. After eating, everyone decided to take a dip in the lake, stripping down to underclothes and splashing in with whoops and laughter. I hung back on the blanket, content to watch, my toes digging into the grass.
Merrilee surfaced first, shaking water from her hair. —Come on, Maysie! The water’s perfect!
—Nah, I’m good here, —I called back.
The group started a game to pass the time, truth or dare, like we used to play as kids sneaking out after dark. Burton spun an empty bottle we’d brought for the booze, and it landed on Burdock.
—Truth or dare? —he asked.
—Dare! —he said, grinning.
Burton thought for a second. —Sing one of those old Seam songs. The forbidden one.
Burdock laughed and belted out a verse from the hanging tree, voice carrying over the water.
The bottle spun again, landing on Merrilee.
—Truth, —she chose.
Blair smirked. —What’s the most merchant thing you’ve ever done that we’d never understand?
Merrilee rolled her eyes. —Oh, come on. Like what?
Burdock jumped in, teasing. —You know, like naming your fancy teas after flowers we can’t even pronounce. What was that one… chamomile? Sounds like a Capitol disease!
Hazelle snorted. —Or those little doilies you put under cakes. What’s the point? We just eat ’em off the dirt!
Hyamitch piled on, splashing water at us. —Yeah, or how you merchants haggle over a penny like it’s gold. Us Seam folks just trade what we got—no fancy ledgers!
We all burst out laughing, even us merchants, protesting through giggles.
—Hey, those ledgers keep the shop running! —Merrilee shot back. —And chamomile helps you sleep, you heathens!
Burton grinned. —Guilty as charged.
Blair spoke again. —But admit it, you guys.— he said looking at haymitch and I— do you miss those fancy Capitol parties more than us grubby lake days?
—Never, —I said, splashing him from the shore. The teasing felt light, harmless, bridging the old divides in a way only friends could, which was a strange feeling.
Eventually, they tired out, and when everyone else was still in the water, Haymitch came back, dripping and shaking his hair like a dog. He plopped down beside me.
—Enjoying yourself?
I looked up at him and patted the spot next to mine for him to sit. —I was until your arrival. —I said, laughing.
He laughed. —You’re teasing, so you’re fine now, I see. Come here, —he said, and then I was resting my head on his lap.
And when I turned to look at the guys, he said, —It’s just like what we envisioned?
I closed my eyes for a minute and let everything sink in. —It is. I wish we could stay like this forever.
—Me too, —he said, rubbing my head. After a little while, Haymitch whispered to me. —You know, I think we do have to tell the guys and make that happen. It looks great here, and I’m sure in the winter no peacekeeper would pass the fence, meaning no one would be here.
I opened my eyes, glancing toward the lake where Merrilee, Burton, Blair, and Hazelle were still splashing around, their laughter echoing off the water. Burdock and Asterid had waded closer to the shore, chatting quietly between themselves. This was our chance, private enough that the others wouldn’t overhear.
—You’re right, —I whispered back. —Wave them over. Just them.
Haymitch gave a subtle nod and raised his hand, signaling to Burdock and Asterid without drawing attention. They noticed, exchanging a puzzled look before making their way out of the water, dripping and wrapping themselves in towels. They joined us on the blanket, sitting close so we could keep our voices low.
—What’s up? —Burdock asked, rubbing his arms against the slight chill. —You two look serious all of a sudden.
Asterid tilted her head, curious. —Yeah, everything okay?
Haymitch leaned in, his voice barely above a murmur. —We’ve got an idea. Something big, but risky. We want to start a secret training center, for the kids, to give them a shot in the Games. Survival skills, hunting tips, plant knowledge. Nothing flashy, just enough to even the odds a bit.
I nodded, picking up where he left off. —We’ve seen what Districts 1 and 2 do, and nothing happens to them. We could do it here, in the meadow or spots like this lake in winter when no one’s around. But it has to stay secret, no one has to find out.
Burdock’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Asterid. —Whoa. That’s… bold. But yeah, I get it. I’ve been teaching a couple kids to hunt already. Could tie in.
Asterid bit her lip, thinking. —It could work. I know the plants, the poisonous ones, the healing ones. But why tell us now?
—Because we trust you two. —Haymitch said. —And we need help to pull it off before the games.
I scanned the water again, making sure the others were still distracted. —But just us four for now. I love my sister, but she would ride or die for Burton, and with him wanting to be mayor… we don’t need someone who would snitch on us to the Peacekeepers. And that whole apology from Blair and Hazelle? He might be your friend but bullshit I don’t buy it.
Burdock nodded slowly. —Fair point. They’re trying, but… yeah, better safe.
Asterid squeezed my hand. —We’ll think about it. Give us a day or two to talk it over?
—Of course, —I said, relieved. —No rush. Just… imagine if we could save even one kid.
They headed back to the water after that, blending in seamlessly, and Haymitch and I exchanged a look. It felt like the first real step toward something bigger than survival, toward fighting back, in our own quiet way.
The picnic wrapped up as the sun dipped lower, everyone tired but happy, promising to do it again soon. But as the weeks turned into months, the warmth of that day faded into the chill of fall, and then winter’s grip. December brought snow flurries and shorter days, and with it, news that hit me like a punch to the gut.
I was at home, stirring a pot of soup to ward off the cold, when Asterid burst through my door without knocking, her cheeks flushed from the wind.
—Maysie! You hear? Lamella had the babies, as in plural… twins! Boys. Baxter and Graham Mellark.
I froze, the spoon slipping from my hand into the pot. Otho’s “sons.” The words echoed in my head, a reminder of everything I’d lost, or never really had. I forced a nod, swallowing the bitterness.
—That’s… great for them.
But inside, it stung, a fresh wound in the scar tissue of my heart.