Archive of Our Own

Bathed in moonlight the paleness of Prim's skin stood out, the smatterings of freckles sprinkling her face invisible. She pulled the blankets up around her sister's shoulders, ignoring Buttercup's hiss as he was displaced before he resettled in between Prim's arms who even in sleep wrapped him up in her arms. Snuggling deeper into the fine bedding. Her breathing the only sound in this house of concrete, so hollow, sterile and white.

Just once she dared brushing a wayward strand out of Prim’s face, pleased by the fullness of her cheek, the warmth of her even with the snow falling outside.

Her eyes burned, and she blinked furiously, steadying herself on the bed frame when she heaved herself up from her haunches, her limbs uncooperative, having fallen asleep after staying motionless so long.

"Katniss?" A drowsy murmur.

Hazy blue eyes found her in the darkness, a hand following. Tucking at her to join.

"Go back to sleep."

"Not without you." It was nearly incomprehensible with her face smooched against the pillow, hair sleep tussled.

"I'll need a glass of water first. Go back to sleep, little duck." Katniss let go of Prim's hand, leaning down to place a kiss against her hairline before smoothing over her hair. Humming softly. Countless times she had been here before singing Prim back to sleep or soothing her to fall asleep in the first place. Yet her voice would not come even if she ordered it to. Words catching in her throat.

But it was enough, Prim perhaps almost conditioned to the soft hum of her voice or simply too exhausted slipped back into sleep like into well-worn boots. Leaving Katniss to her routine of checking the windows, opening the locks rather dealing with the slight chill permeating the air than the alternative. Eyes roaming the perimeter in the darkness for anything off, ensuring the lock would still open then she stepped out into the hall, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Remained in the darkness of the hallway, those high ceilings echoing with every noise, walls icy to the touch as she slid down on them. All that white. Not a single speck of coal dust. No sizzling spark of ember to inflame it. After all Haymitch had once family too. Now he had nothing left to lose. Falling asleep wherever consciousness finally left him with a bottle and knife as his only companions.

She pulled her legs in, curling around them, resting her chin on her folded arms, gaze hushing over the darkness. Just listening to the groaning of the central heating, her own breathing. She itched for her bow too. Her eyes teared when she stifled a yawn, her whole form shaking with it. Tightening the grip on her arms, her leg tapped against the ground. The cold of the walls seeped into her bones. Her hand jerked up to her throat, the chasm in her chest endless. Her heart raged against the cage her ribs turned out to be, the yearning unbearable-

The mark left on her was indelible where an eager knife in resisting hands had licked at her blood, but the skin was wiped clean of it. Even this the Capitol had taken, removed any scars and blemishes, the imperfections in their eyes. Having relied on someone else for once only to be left without, knocked her off her equilibrium. Left her with nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other.

“Katniss.” Peeta murmured camouflaged, hidden a breathless murmur.

“Katniss!” Rue, blinking those big soulful brown eyes down at the spear in her gut, blood running down the corner of her mouth-

“Katniss!” Clove screaming, she had to get to her, where was she-

“Katniss.” She shot up, flailing, crashing. “Katniss calm down, you’re home. It's alright.”

White. Marble. She coughed, steadying herself on the floor. Hands shaking. “Keep back. Don’t touch her.”

In the corner of her eyes she saw a hand, flinched back. Her mother. She was home. Then. “Prim.” She looked up, saw her little sister kneeling in her open door, reaching for her. The hand.

Katniss averted her gaze, grasped the bridge of her nose. Forced herself onto her feet. Pretended not to see her mother take a step back. Parsing out her words.

“I’m alright.” Sunlight filtered through the hallway. Without another word she helped Prim to her feet. “I need to check the snares.”

She whispered a kiss against Prim’s temple before hurrying down the halls, away from sight. Unable to stay.

*

“And we are rolling in three, two, one, we are live.”

The cameras weighted on her, the flashes almost enough to startle her back into her house. Where Prim was. This moment was too important. She straightened, hid her trembling hands. Not from the cold, but the cloying scent of roses and blood still stuck in her nose, the voice lingering in her ears. Everything was hanging on this.

The cameras were already moving, panning across the neat, snow-brushed streets here glinting white not tainted with the gray of the coal dust.

Clove. Standing at the gates of the Victors Village. The noose around her neck loosened. Emerging from the thick of her own escort team like something carved out of a dream — sharp and slight in a snow-white fur coat, black gloves, her dark hair swept back in a braid that glistened with frost. Her boots crunched the snow with purpose, but she hesitated just a few meters away, her eyes locked on Katniss'.

She looked different. Stronger. Heavier. As if the months apart had weathered her, sharpened the lines of her face. Her lips parted slightly — like she meant to speak — and Katniss felt herself sway.

She wanted to run. Forward, not away.

Before she could take a step, Clove beat her to it — eyes alight, a grin so bright on her face it stole her entire breath. “Katniss!”

She launched herself at her like a bolt. Katniss barely braced herself, arms opening instinctively, and Clove crashed into her chest, legs wrapping around her waist with practiced ease. The breath whooshed out of Katniss’ lungs — and she laughed. A startled, helpless sound — the first real one in weeks.

Clove kissed her, swallowing her laugh. Quick. Then again, slower. Fingers against her cheek like she’d forgotten how soft Katniss’ skin could be. Katniss clutched her tighter, her fingers winding into Clove’s coat, not even caring about the cameras. Not yet. Their frenzy to be closer, toppling them over backwards into the snow.

Katniss caught the edge of a curb, Clove’s weight landing on her. But Clove reacted midair, years of knife training making her movements instinctive — her hand behind Katniss’ head before it could hit the ice.

They blinked at each other — breathless, noses cold, cheeks flushed — before Clove burst into laughter. It tumbled out of her like a secret finally loosed from her ribs. Katniss laughed, too, unable to stop herself, and Clove leaned down again, slower this time. Her kiss tasted of frost and something warm beneath it — relief, maybe. The kind that makes your knees give.

And then—

"No time to waste to get reacquainted, I see!" boomed Caesar Flickerman’s voice through a monitor somewhere above them.

They jolted apart, blinking towards one of the more prominent cameras right in the square pointed at them.

Clove didn’t even pretend to smile at first. Her eyes narrowed like she might throw a knife if she still had one. Then, with Career-perfect timing, she flipped her expression into something smooth.

"Can you blame us?" she said sweetly, coming to stand, cuddling into Katniss' side after helping her up. wrapping one arm around Katniss without looking away from the lens. "It's been far too long, many weeks too long to be exact."

"I heard absence makes the heart grow fonder — and we have been waiting for your reunion impatiently as well, haven't we folks?" Caesar quipped. "We were hoping for a warm greeting, but that was positively scorching. But what else is to be expected from the Girl on Fire!”

Katniss rolled her eyes so subtly it didn’t register unless you were standing right next to her. Clove, however, pressed her cheek lightly against Katniss’ jaw, one eyebrow raised toward the screen.

"If you hadn't interrupted," she said, the edge in her voice lacquered over with Capitol charm. "But not to worry, Caesar. We’ll simply pick up right where we left off … once the cameras are off."

"Cheeky, oh so very cheeky! What a lovely pair!" Caesar laughed, throwing his hands in the air. "But tell us how have the last few weeks been. An interesting little tidbit I heard about love letters being sent between District 2 and District 12, you wouldn't know anything about that now, would you?"

Katniss froze, relieved when Clove after exhaling slowly through her nose, muttering something into the neck of her coat took over the interview with Caesar.

*

The house was quieter now. Most of the crew had left to prepare the train for departure. Snow flurried gently past the windows. Inside, it was too warm. Too still.

Katniss stood by the hearth, jaw set, eyes locked on the dying coals. Cinna had gone with Prim to the kitchen earlier—under the pretense of tea, though more likely to spare them from hovering cameras or an overenthusiastic prep team. Now she waited for her sister to return. To say goodbye.

Clove sat on the edge of the couch, her fur coat folded neatly beside her. One leg bounced, just slightly. She kept glancing toward the hallway.

They both turned at the sound of soft footsteps, even before her sister’s voice followed.

“You looked taller in the showings of the Games.”

Prim stood in the doorway, backlit by the kitchen light. She wore one of their mother’s old knitted sweaters, the sleeves far too long. In her arms, calm and coiled, was Buttercup. Yellow-eyed. Unimpressed. Utterly still.

Clove stood, not sure why. “I am tall?” she offered, hesitant—more a question than a defense.

Katniss fought a smile. Anyone else teasing Clove’s height might’ve earned sharp words. Or something sharper.

Prim crossed the room slowly, eyes sweeping over Clove, cataloguing every detail. Then she looked her in the eye.

“You didn’t suffer any lasting brain damage from your head injury, did you? Does your shoulder ache in the cold?”

Clove blinked. “I don’t think so. And… yeah, it twinges now.”

Prim nodded thoughtfully. “Mother says old pain is like old wood. It carries weather in its grain.”

Clove huffed—not quite a laugh. “She’s not wrong.”

Prim stepped closer, still cradling Buttercup like a bundle of claws and pride. “This is Buttercup.”

Clove raised an eyebrow. “He looks exactly like Katniss described him.”

“She called him ugly. But she also compared him to you,” Prim said mildly. Her voice was light, but the look she gave was not. “I remember you threatening to make him and Katniss match.”

“I did,” Clove admitted, dryly. “All in good fun, of course.”

The twin stares from the Everdeen sisters told her exactly how that landed.

“Perhaps not my best moment,” she amended.

Prim shifted, letting Buttercup slide to the floor. He padded over to Clove, tail flicking in slow, disdainful interest. He gave her boot one sniff, then another, then sat beside it. Not touching—just near.

Prim watched closely. “He can be quite vindictive if he feels wronged.”

“Does he feel wronged?” Clove asked.

“You called him ugly,” Prim said with a smile that showed off her teeth. “And he’s protective of his family.”

Clove almost smiled back. Buttercup narrowed his eyes but didn’t move.

“He hasn’t made up his mind yet,” Prim continued, still soft. “Which means he’s deciding whether to bite you or ignore you. I feel the same.”

She stepped up to Clove, close now, smoothing a wrinkle in her sleeve with delicate fingers—an echo of their mother, gentle and precise.

“Bring Katniss back in one piece,” she said, “and I might change my opinion. If not… be careful what you consume in my presence. As a healer, we know all kinds of plants.”

Clove didn’t speak. But she nodded.

Prim stepped back, then turned to Katniss, opening her arms for a hug. Katniss crossed the room without hesitation, smoothing down her sister’s hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Be good,” Katniss whispered. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

She picked up Buttercup. As they passed Clove, the cat flicked his tail once—just lightly—against Clove’s wrist.

Then they were gone.

The house fell still again.

Clove blinked after them. “Did I just get threatened by your little sister? The same sister you described as a kind, innocent angel adored by all?”

“She is. Don't tell me you are afraid?”

Clove gave a short laugh. “She's your sister, I would be foolish not to be.”

Katniss chuckled, stepping closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” She bumped her hip against Clove’s with a grin.

Clove swatted at her, missing as Katniss danced lightly out of range. Not giving up she pursued Katniss, who with a laugh made her escape.

*

The train groaned softly as it cut through the dark, endless landscape. Outside the windows, the world blurred — black trees, ghost towns, flickers of light too distant to feel real. Katniss wandered the narrow corridor barefoot, her hand skimming the wall as if it might steady her.

Sleep evaded her again.

Snow was watching every move. All she could think about was Prim, out of reach for her. The silence on the train was too absolute, too final. Like a pause before an execution.

She passed Clove’s door once. Didn’t stop.

Turned back.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the metal just as something thudded faintly inside — muffled, a dream-sharp gasp, a whispered curse.

Katniss opened the door without knocking.

The lights were off. Pale blue from the corridor spilled across the floor like water. Clove sat upright in bed, tangled in sheets damp with sweat. Her breathing was uneven, a hand pressed to the back of her head like she was still trapped somewhere that hurt.

Katniss didn’t speak. Just stepped in and closed the door behind her.

Clove startled when she noticed her, then stilled.

"Couldn't sleep?" she rasped, voice scraped raw by whatever nightmare had gripped her.

Katniss shook her head. “You were dreaming.”

“Every time I close my eyes,” Clove said a bitter twist to her smile. “Our prize for winning the Games.”

They looked at each other, both lit only by the corridor’s dim spill. Katniss took a breath. Then another. Then crossed the small room without a word and sat on the edge of the bed.

Clove shifted back slightly, giving her space without asking why she was here. She already knew.

Katniss hesitated only a heartbeat before she slid under the blanket beside her.

It was the first bed they'd shared. In the arena, it had been trees. Moss. Cold stone. A cave floor. Their bodies curled around each other because it had meant survival.

Now… it meant something else. Still survival. But gentler. More terrifying.

Clove laid on her back. Katniss turned on her side to face her. Inches between them.

“Sometimes I think I'll never be warm again," Clove murmured.

Katniss reached across the small gap, fingers trailing up the side of Clove’s arm until they found her shoulder — the one that had nearly been shattered in the arena. Her skin was warmer there. Still healing. Still sore.

Clove inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away. Their foreheads touched. Neither kissed the other.

Not yet. But Katniss’ hand slid down until their fingers interlocked, and Clove’s thumb brushed along her knuckles in slow, trembling circles.

“Every time I close my eyes we are back in the arena,” Clove whispered, barely audible. “And most often I see Cato. He isn’t even always the threat sometimes he’s just like back home in the training center, an arrogant bastard not taking anything serious, teasing and telling dumb jokes.”

Katniss closed her eyes. Pressed closer, like she could hide her heart somewhere beneath Clove’s skin, it would be safe there.

“I know,” she said. “I see Rue sometimes when my sister just stands so similarly to her or in her beaming smiles, I see her in the meadow back home.”

Outside, the world kept blurring past. But inside the train, in the small space between two scarred, sleepless girls, time slowed.

And for the first time in weeks, they slept.

Not restfully. Not without dreams. But together.

And that was enough.

*

The air was thick with silence. Below the platform, the square stretched out in cold, tense stillness. They had been escorted from the train by Peacekeepers, their presence alarmingly high. Effie’s protest at their treatment, her cut-off “That’s not very festive” rang through her ears.

It wasn’t. It meant it wasn’t supposed to look like this. Snow’s words echoed in her mind as her eyes took in those never ending rows of small houses, those people on the brink of starvation.

Katniss stood straighter, glancing out to the little risen platforms displaying projections of Thresh’s and Rue’s tribute pictures where beneath awaited their families. Her hand reached for Clove’s instinctively, not for the cameras, but because she needed something to anchor her.

Barely listening to the mayor’s speech, the expected procedures were followed before Clove stepped forward.

She didn’t look at the Peacekeepers. She looked at Rue’s family. At Thresh’s. Then at the crowd.

“I didn’t speak with Thresh. He wouldn’t have had reason to trust someone like me.”

Her voice was flat. Controlled, hiding a current beneath it.

“But I watched him. He had the opportunity to kill both Katniss and I and didn’t. He played the Games on his own terms and was truly honorable. The choice to spare someone that stays with you.”

Her gaze shifted to Rue’s family. “And Rue… Rue reminded me that not everything soft is weak. That true strength has nothing to do with might. We’ve been given more than we’ll ever need,” she paused. “So every month, for the rest of our lives, we’ll send a portion of our winnings to the families of the fallen tributes of District 11. Because without them neither Katniss nor I would be standing here today.”

Clove stepped back to her side and Katniss couldn’t help look at her. In the corner of her eyes she saw Effie and Haymitch talk in hushed voices, but her eyes were drawn back to Rue’s family. To her little siblings.

The now oldest one was staring at her, glaring, waiting. And how could she not when Katniss hadn’t spoken up. She had wanted Clove to do the speaking, who was far more polished, far better in using her words, but those reproachful eyes out of a face which was too similar to the one hunting her dreams-

So Katniss took a step forward. For Rue.

“I only ever spoke to Thresh one time. Just long enough for him to spare my life. I didn’t know him, but I always respected him. For his power. For his refusal to play the Games on anyone’s terms but his own. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn’t do it. I respected him for that.” A stir rippled through the gathered crowd. Among Thresh’s family, the older woman—maybe his grandmother—lifted her chin, just slightly. A flicker of pride crosses her face.

Katniss turned toward Rue’s side, her gaze softening. “But I feel as if I did know Rue. And she’ll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim.”

Her breath caught. “Thank you for your children.” Katniss blinked back what she refuses to let fall, and then, quietly added. “And thank you for the bread.”

Silence. A high, clear whistle. Rue’s four-note melody. Katniss froze. Her blood went cold. Bit her tongue to ground herself.

And then—hands. One by one, in the crowd, the people began to raise them. Three fingers to the lips. Then to the sky. The salute of District 12.

It spread like fire.

Clove shifted closer, her fingers brushing Katniss’ wrist—but both of them are staring now.

A Peacekeeper moved. So did another. They dragged someone out of the crowd. A man, gray-haired, broad-shouldered. He had been the first to raise his hand. Forcing him in front of the crowd to his knees.

“No,” Katniss whispers. “No, no, no—”

A gunshot cracked.

Katniss flinched violently. Clove grabbed her elbow—too late. Katniss already stumbling forward, toward the edge of the platform.

“Katniss—” Clove hissed, low. “don’t. The cameras.”

But all Katniss saw the blood in the square. President Snow’s warning rang in Katniss’ ears. Convince them. That you’re in love. That there’s nothing to ignite. Put out the spark. That’s what he said.

Froze but seeing the Peacekeepers start to push, to attack she howled. “Leave them alone!”

Peacekeepers encircled them, pushing them back into the building, while Katniss couldn’t look away, gunfire rang out, screams, she trashed until someone picked her up. Only the overwhelming stink of alcohol kept her from lashing out, falling limp in Haymitch’s grip.

*

“Are you insane. You had the simplest task and even that you managed to mess up. Hold hands, kiss in front of the cameras, convince Panem you’d throw yourself off a cliff rather than live without each other, simple instructions.”

“I didn’t mean to- Just I was thinking about Rue, he has to know I didn’t mean to.”

Clove stood up. “What the hell is going on?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Haymitch raised a brow, sharp now. “You didn’t tell her? And here I thought you had trouble keeping your mouth shut.”

Clove turned to Katniss. “Tell me what?”

Katniss opened her mouth, then closed it. “Snow came to see me before the tour,” she said, voice low. “He… he’s worried people aren’t buying the story.”

“What story?”

“Us. Our... love story.” She shook her head, remembering the phrase a degree of indifference. That was what he saw in her — what he thought the Districts would see too. That their act in the arena wasn’t about love, but defiance. Maybe it was both. Maybe it didn’t matter. All she knew was she hadn’t been willing to leave the arena without Clove.

“Some Districts are in unrest. They think what we did was rebellion. Snow wants me to dissuade any uprising or... there might be an incident involving my family.

Clove stared at her, like something inside her cracked. “And you didn’t say anything? I just might have put them and you in danger because you didn’t mention anything.”

“I was trying to keep you safe. We just need to get through this tour Please Haymitch help us get through this.”

Clove laughed bitterly. “By letting me walk out there and hand over our winnings in front of Peacekeepers with guns? By blindsiding me while Snow watches everything we do? What if I had done something worse?”

Katniss didn’t know what to say.

Haymitch stepped in again. “Girl wake up, you never get off this train,” he muttered. “Do you think this ends when we pull into the station back in Twelve?” He looked at Katniss now. “You are property of the Capitol now, you are victors. You’re a symbol if you want to be or not. You too, sweetheart,” he added to Clove. “From now on, you’re mentors. Every year they’ll parade you out, dress you up and show you off, so everyone forgets about anything the Capitol wants them to.”

Clove sat back down, her anger dulled into something quieter, darker.

“So you’re going to smile,” Haymitch said, turning for the door. “You’re going to read the cards Effie gives you. You’re going to hold hands and live happily ever after.” Then he left.

The lounge door had barely clicked shut behind Haymitch when Clove stood up.

She didn’t look at Katniss right away — just stared at the carpet, jaw clenched, breath sharp and shallow like she was holding something in. Or back.

Katniss hadn’t moved. It was Clove who finally spoke. Quiet. Lethal. “You should’ve told me about Snow.”

“Clove—”

“No. Don’t do that,” Clove snapped. Her eyes met Katniss’, unflinching. Her voice was shaking now. Not from fear.

Katniss stepped forward, instinctively. “I was going to tell you. I was—”

“When? After he kills someone? After we step into the next District and I make another speech not knowing I’m walking through a minefield?”

“I didn’t know how—”

Clove barked a humorless laugh. “You didn’t know how? Or you didn’t trust me?”

That hit harder than any of her knives ever had.

“I do trust you,” Katniss said quickly. “I just… I didn’t want to drag you into something—”

“I’m already in it!” Clove’s voice cracked, the words slashing through the room. “I’ve been in it since we met on the rooftop, since I didn’t kill you in the arena. Since we would have rather killed each other together than play their Games. Since we stepped out of that arena. I knew something was wrong with your monosyllabic answers in our phone calls, when you stopped answering my letters.” Katniss opened her mouth, but Clove cut her off.

“I told myself you were scared. That it wasn’t safe. That the Capitol was watching. And that you were bad at talking. But now—” She reached into the inner pocket of her jacket and pulled something out. A thin metal holochip, dull and unassuming in the low light. “I got this back in 2. Slipped into my hand by a Peacekeeper. No words. Just this.”

Clove pressed the chip. It flickered to life between them. A holo-image projected midair: Katniss, leaning against the fence outside the woods. Gale stepped in, said something, and kissed her. A kiss perfectly framed. Inescapable.

Katniss stared at it. Her stomach turned to lead. Clove let it hover a beat longer before she turned it off.

“I thought maybe it was old. Or maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. But I didn’t ask, because you didn’t tell me anything. And now I find out Snow came to you — threatened your family — and you still said nothing.”

Katniss’ chest constricted. “It didn’t matter—” she started, but faltered. Unsure how to explain. She barely remembered it, fresh off the train, home from the Games, Gale angry talking in circles which she was too exhausted to follow-

Aching and just wanting some familiarity he had pulled her away in the middle of some festivities in her honor which she had spent clued to Prim-

“What was it then?” Clove’s eyes narrowed. “A mistake? Nothing? Or not worth mentioning?”

Katniss stepped forward, desperate now. “He kissed me. It wasn’t… it wasn’t anything. It wasn’t you.” That was the crux of it. Even back then mostly numb she had pushed him back. Left him standing alone while she missed the girl in front of her.

Clove shook her head, jaw tight, teeth clenched like she was holding back more than just words. “So what am I, Katniss? A placeholder? The girl you only love in front of the cameras?”

“No,” Katniss said. “No, don’t—you’re not—Clove, I—” But her voice collapsed under the weight of everything unsaid.

Clove folded her arms, but her fingers trembled. “This was real for me. From the start. You were the one who said she was above Capitol Games or acting out any fairytales. And I thought—” Her voice cracked. “I thought we weren't pretending with each other.”

Katniss felt like she was standing in a field of glass, trying to breathe without shattering. “That’s still true,” she said hoarsely. “I never pretended anything with you.”

Clove blinked hard. She didn’t look convinced. She looked like someone trying to build a wall out of nothing but splinters. For a second, Clove didn’t move. Then she said, quietly, “You just didn’t trust me enough to let me protect you back.”

And that was the end of it — because that, right there, was the wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Why hadn't she mentioned Snow?

Clove stalked to the door, stopping at the threshold, arms rigid at her sides. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut sharper than any blade she'd ever held. “I’ll smile for the cameras, if that’s what you need.”

Katniss flinched.

It wasn’t the anger in her voice that broke her. It was the quiet. The resignation. The way Clove sounded simply broken. Like whatever this had been—whatever it still was—was just another role to play now. Another burden to bear, another costume to wear.

“Don’t,” Katniss said, her voice cracking. “Don’t say that.”

Clove turned halfway back, eyes shadowed. “Why not? Isn’t that what this is now? A story to sell. You should’ve just told me from the start.”

Katniss took a shaky step forward. “There wasn’t a start to tell, Clove. You kissed me first, remember? There’s never been anyone else.” She had herself convinced she would never get to see Clove again after they parted for their Districts, stepping off the train.

To keep going on without her by her side had left her lost, unmoored, as if she hadn't spent the last few years only relying on herself. The arena changed that. Clove had changed her.

But the only way to keep going was to force herself to forget the Games, to stop being an empty husk, to get her, limbs and voice to cooperate when the person she had done it for was waiting for her. Pleading her silently to. To cast of everything.

So she commanded her hands to stop shaking, braided Prim’s hair, fed her and brought her to school, forced her mouth to form syllable that weren’t screams and ragged breaths. Numb to everything until even Clove’s voice and letters couldn’t reach her anymore. Haunting the halls of her new house.

Having clenched shut her teeth against the gaping maw of the beast starving inside of her as she stopped answering to Clove’s tinny voice on the other end of the phone, stopped answering letters only to insatiably, obsessively trace the cursive letters, imagining Clove sitting in a study a copy of her own bathed in sunlight writing letter after letter. Reread them like a scavenger gnawing at picked clean bones. Chewing mint leaves excessively.

Clove looked unconvinced, arms crossed tight like she was holding herself together. “And yet you kissed someone else.”

“I didn’t kiss him,” Katniss snarled, she hadn't, couldn't even stand the thought of it. “He kissed me. I— I didn’t want it. I didn’t know it was coming. I didn’t even have time to think about it or have thought about it.”

Clove let out a humorless breath, but she wasn’t walking away.

“I should’ve told you about Snow,” Katniss continued, desperate now. “I should’ve told you everything. You didn’t deserve to be blindsided like that. I was really just trying to protect everyone I care about including you but with us in it hadn’t to do anything with trust. I'm not used to this. To share. But you were the first thing I ever chose for myself. There's no backup or second choice. ”

That froze Clove. Her arms dropped a little.

“There was never a choice between you and him,” Katniss said, stepping closer. “Before you I didn't ever want anything. I needed things, I needed to clothe and feed my mother and Prim, needed her to stay healthy and happy. I never wanted for anything, but I do now, want you."

Her chest tightened, words scraping out like splinters. “Back in the arena… when we had our blades to each other’s throats, that moment wasn’t about some sort of strategy. If it came down to going home without you, I didn’t want to go home at all.”

Silence settled. The train hummed beneath them, steady and low like a heartbeat between breaths.

Katniss looked up, eyes dark and shining. “I still don’t want to go home without you.”

Clove’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Katniss took a breath like it hurt. “I’m sorry. I did what I had to just to stay upright. But I shouldn’t have left you behind to do it. Shouldn’t have stopped answering your letters. I told myself it kept the target on me.” She reached out, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing Clove’s sleeve.

And Clove didn’t pull away. Her eyes closed for a beat, like she was weighing the weight of the world on her shoulders — and finding it just barely bearable with Katniss touching her.

“I didn’t know what I was to you anymore,” she murmured. “It started to feel like I was the only one still fighting for us.”

Katniss stepped closer until they were chest to chest, foreheads nearly touching.

“I’m here now,” she said, voice steady. “I’m not making the same mistake again.”

Clove exhaled, long and shaking, like she’d been holding her breath since District 2.

And then—finally—her hands found Katniss’ waist, pulling her close. Not quite soft, not quite gentle, but real. Her grip was grounding. Familiar. Like home.

They stood like that for a long moment. No Capitol. No cameras. Just the hum of the train and the echo of everything they hadn’t said until now.

“I’m still mad,” Clove said into the silence.

“I know,” Katniss replied, quietly. “You’re right to be.”

“Alright.” Finally, the tension released and Clove sunk into her embrace, nuzzling into her throat.

Katniss smiled against her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And neither was Clove.

*

Katniss found Clove already in the wagon where they usually ate breakfast together with their prep teams, Cinna, Effie, Haymitch and the both of them only to find it strangely empty. Besides Clove, who was leaning against the buffet table sipping from a mug, closing her eyes and humming contently. When Katniss closed the distance between them a smell teased her nose. burnt wood, wet solid earth, sharp and bitter. It took her a moment to place the scent.

"How do you drink that?" Katniss asked, watching the steam curl up between them.

Clove lowered the mug and gave her a smirk. “Started when I was ten. They served it in the training dorms. Keeps you from falling asleep standing or in the midst of drills.”

“We don’t have that in Twelve. You’re lucky if you get warm tea.”

Clove stepped closer. “Hmm tea is so obsolete, it's just hot water with some leaves. It doesn't even have any effects.”

“You really enjoy that?”

“Not at first. Sometimes it's more habit than anything, though it has grown on me.”

Katniss didn’t respond, but when Clove closed the distance and leaned in, Katniss kissed her.

It was warm. Familiar. Lips soft. Taste awful.

Katniss pulled back with a grimace. “You taste like tree bark.”

Clove raised an eyebrow. “Romantic.”

“Bitter and burnt. Why do you like that?”

Clove shrugged. “It's an acquired taste.”

Katniss wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Well, I didn’t acquire it.”

Clove smirked. “That’s fine. I acquired you instead.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now, caught somewhere between fondness and exasperation as Clove raised her mug in a mock toast.

*

Katniss found Effie in the lounge car, already dressed for the day in a sculpted lilac suit with a ruffled peplum that fluttered when she turned toward the sunrise.

“Effie,” Katniss drew her attention, hesitant.

Effie turned, hands full of ribbons and fabric samples. “Darling! What timing — I was just brainstorming options for a matching winter ensemble. Something elegant but not too funereal — stars above, I could just see you both in velvet. Clove in deep garnet, you in white—”

Katniss shook her head. “That’s not why I’m here. It’s about Clove.”

“Oh?” Effie tilted her head. “Is she doing all right? That poor girl, she hides it well, but I can tell—the tour's been very hard on her. She’s not used to being part of a team. Though I do adore her bite, of course. She is one of mine now, after all. District 12 has never had such symmetry!”

Katniss raised a brow. “You’re claiming Clove now?”

Effie flapped a hand. “Please. I’m very versatile. And she’ll be District Two for not much longer. You’re both mine. Cinna and I are already picking out the dresses for the Capitol Gala.”

“I want to commission something,” her tongue was heavy in her mouth, so she spit out the next words. “A ring. For Clove.”

Effie paused mid-flourish. There was a heartbeat of silence.

“A ring?” Effie’s hand fluttered to her chest. “Oh, Katniss. You’re proposing?”

Katniss looked at the floor. “Yes. I mean, I don’t think it makes sense to wait, right? We are we, she is going to come to live with me, why wait?”

A last desperate shot to calm down the masses, their stops in 10 and 8, 5 all had ended with the people clamoring, pushing against the barricades, the Peacekeepers, which presence got more and more pronounced. No one placated by their speeches. So much for Panem yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Effie squealed, nearly knocking over her swatches. “Oh! This is wonderful! And so tasteful — a love match between victors! I knew it. I always knew. You should have seen the way she looked at you in the arena. How she keeps looking at you. Like a moth drawn to the flame.”

Katniss gave a small, choked laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Oh, this will be divine.” Effie was already pulling out her tablet, typing furiously. “Banquets! Interviews! A Capitol gala—oh, the ring reveal will be everything. You’ll make such a beautiful bride, Katniss.”

Katniss blinked. “I just… want the ring to be ours. A secret for now. I know the cameras will see it eventually, but—they won’t get it.” Appeasing Snow was one thing, but this was still theirs, the ring would be something she chose for Clove, if she couldn't hide them from the rest of Panem, she would do it her way.

Effie sobered enough to nod, lips pursing in understanding. “Of course. Something meaningful. We’ll keep it tasteful. Classy. What are we thinking?” She reached for a tablet.

Katniss inhaled slowly. “Yellow gold.”

“Ooh. Regal.”

“It reminded me of her tribute interview. The way the golden makeup looked on her—how it contrasted with her dark eyes. As if the sun itself kissed her skin. Obsidian for the stone. She had a token back from home, she lost it in the arena. They mine it back in Two, volcanic glass.” She had thrown it at Cato back in the arena.

Effie stopped typing. “That’s perfect. Strong. Dark. But still elegant. Very… Clove.”

“You think so?” Katniss swallowed. “In Twelve we don’t do rings but Two and the Capitol do and I want her to have something from home.”

Effie’s eyes shimmered with emotion. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve heard in ages. You two have been through so much — you deserve this. Panem is going to go into frenzy, they haven’t talked about anything but you two, the Star-crossed lovers and now a wedding.”

Katniss winced inwardly but didn’t correct her. A bond forged around death and defiance.

Effie was already pacing. “I know just the jeweler. Discreet, darling, very discreet. A retired Capitol Artisan, she does masterful work, owes me a favor, probably will be bored to death, her grandchildren practically forced her to retire though she still secretly does some pieces. This will interest her enough she'll have it ready in a blink. She does masterful work, you'll see, let me write her.“

“Don’t tell anyone else,” Katniss said. “Please. Not until it’s time.”

Effie gave her a mock salute. “My lips are sealed tighter than a prep team’s serum drawer. This is your moment.”

Katniss exhaled, part relief, part dread. “Thanks, Effie.”

Effie grabbed her hands. “Oh, Katniss. You’re going to make history. Imagine the gowns. The guests. A wedding uniting Two and Twelve? It’s practically a national event. Maybe we’ll do it in the Presidential Mansion — have Caesar officiate.”

Katniss choked. “Effie!”

Effie just laughed. “Too soon? Very well, but we’ll get there! Oh, the cakes! The fireworks! The confetti! Now—do you want a matching band? Because I’m envisioning something with a subtle flame motif, maybe—”

As Effie’s voice floated off into dreams of orchids and satin, Katniss sat back on the velvet bench and stared down at her own fingers. Was this the right choice? She was fighting, she was showing her choice to the entirety of Panem. To Clove. A promise. A security.

Soon, she’d have to drop to one knee in front of an audience of millions. Smile like nothing was burning. Clove wanted this too, right?

*

It started with the little girl. Up on the stage when the mayor introduced them and welcomed them to District 2. Her braid woven into a crown around her head, holding out a bouquet of roses to her with a beaming smile.

Katniss bent instinctively to meet her.

“They’re for you,” the girl said, eyes bright and as blue as Prim’s. “One day I want to volunteer just like you did.”

Katniss’ smile faltered. Though she took the flowers briefly patted the girl's head then stepped away.

The sun blinded her, and she had to blink away the array of colorful spots filling her vision to see the crowd. The crunch of the stems of the flowers only audible to her as she watched the people's nods of approval, at the way some of them smiled like the girl had said something celebratory. Not tragic. Not horrifying. Normal. Her fingers went numb around the flowers. Something in Katniss’ stomach twisted.

Clove hadn’t moved beside her. Not an inch.

Katniss’ voice was flat, as she turned slightly toward her, whispering to Clove, so the microphone wouldn’t pick up her words. “Is this really what they teach you here? That it’s an honor to throw your children into the arena?”

Clove’s jaw tightened. “At least we give them a chance, raise them to win. You think it’s kinder sending frightened lambs to slaughter?”

Katniss flinched, but Clove was already looking away.

Katniss was still stewing in it when the mayor greeted them at the banquet. Knowing she had let her own years of resentment for the Career District’s blind her to the real enemy. They were all playing with the card they have been dealt. Even if it didn't make it easier to see the Games glorified, to see the people of Two far from emaciation, their relationship to the Capitol clearly not only geographically close. How could it be otherwise when District 2 had the most victors of them all.

The Justice Hall of District 2 was all stone, granite columns and mountain pride, the interior bathed in crimson and slate. Nothing soft. Nothing warm. Like Clove next to her, close but glacier.

“Well, well,” the mayor said as he took Clove’s hand with a smile. “Glad to have you back. Though I must admit, we were surprised you’re still pressing for your transfer after getting a look at your wanted destination. It’s rare for anyone to leave, but especially for a victor from here.”

Katniss caught the emphasis.

“Still,” the mayor continued, gaze flicking toward her with a faint smile, “I suppose everyone wants a little novelty after the Games. Your other half is certainly… memorable.”

Before Katniss could speak, another voice cut through the chamber like a chisel hitting stone, demanding attention, not soft-spoken spoken like the mayor.

“Mayor, always a pleasure.”

Clove’s shoulders tensed beside her before the man even reached them and Katniss straightened, pulling Clove closer to her by the waist.

He wasn’t familiar at all. Easily a head taller, bald in a suit which barely contained the mass of him. While he was well groomed in finery, his stance, his form spoke of manual labour of using his body-

“You look radiant, daughter, I don’t think anyone tonight even compares.” Cameras flashed as he placed one hand on each of Clove’s shoulders, appraising her almost like a prized goat then leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you after all I haven’t even been introduced to the girl you are leaving behind your home and family for.”

Katniss stood stiffly, waited a moment and had to hide her surprise as Clove remained silent. “Katniss Everdeen.” She didn’t let go of Clove, offered her other hand, though certainly didn’t say it was nice to meet him. Clove’s father. Commodus Fuhrmann.

He offered a hand, but his smile never touched his eyes. “Ah yes. The Girl on Fire. The wild thing from Twelve. You certainly know how to draw attention. Here in District Two, we prefer our victors disciplined. Refined.”

Katniss took his hand, a life of hard work undeniable by the callous and strength, even by slight misalignment of the joints in his fingers. Her voice was cool. “Hard to see much polish when covered in dust — I don’t think it matters much if it’s black or gray.”

Commodus chuckled like she’d paid him a compliment. Clove didn’t flinch, didn’t move—but Katniss caught the tightness in her jaw, the stiff inhale through her nose.

“I’d like a word with my daughter,” Commodus said, fingers curling ever so slightly around Clove’s arm.

Clove didn’t even look at Katniss. “I’ll be back.”

And just like that, she was gone — slipping down the hall with her father, eyes like stone. The mayor and cameras silently watching.

“If you’d excuse me, I need a refill.” Katniss quickly deserted the premise, she hadn’t touched her drink, not liking the way it fogged her senses.

The people parted for her but with all the colours and fancy get-ups it was hard to find anyone, either Haymitch or Effie instead she picked up the hisses and whispers. District 2 wasn’t happy with her and not exactly with Clove either. Coldly staring while whispering about their cheating, how Clove wasn’t a real victor the way she had won, about the savage with a bow, how a victor who didn’t win alone barely counted-

The grip on her flute tightened with every murmur, and she almost exploded at the next stage whisper when a hand touched her shoulder.

“Darling, why are you all alone, this is the time to mingle and make lasting connections. Everyone is so excited to meet you.” Effie. Finally. “Oh sweet girl what did we say, chin up,” Effie tapped at her jaw lightly, “bright smile, to be your happier self. After all this is all for you.”

“Dance with me,” she said, forcing her voice to remain light.

“Manners.” Effie chided. “I hope that's not how you ask Clove to dance, like some cave dweller. A slight bow, arm extended, the offer if you would like to dance-”

“Very much." Katniss interrupted, grasping Effie’s wrist to show her to the dance floor before copying the other dancers and placing one hand in hers the other on her waist.

“You scoundrel!” Effie laughed, hitting her shoulder softly. ”Haymitch certainly is not a positive influence. Though not to worry.” Effie leaned closer to whisper and Katniss was relieved that Effie didn’t overdo her perfume and other things or she would have suffocated. Like when her prep team was in one wagon all together with her alone. “Until the wedding I have you straightened out. Clove will be very thankful, believe me,“ Effie chirped, digressing. “Oh, imagine — a Capitol wedding! Just picture a white train of flowers—”

Katniss smiled tightly and let her ramble. She spun. Counted the steps. Eyes hushing over the room searching for Clove. Barely noticing one song ending and the next starting. It had been quite some time.

“You should look for her.” Katniss blinked startled when Effie stopped dancing, instead prodded her along off the dance floor and Katniss gave her a thankful smile and did as bid.

Her chest was tightening with every empty corner, so she tried a hallway, following the slightly raised voices audible over the music.

Commodus’ voice was a harsh whisper: “Do you have any idea what you’re giving up? You belong here at my side after all that I did for you.“

“All that you did for me? Sent me to my death?” Clove spat. “For your ambitions. Your pride.”

“Don’t be dramatic, I paid for school, you were bred and raised to win and even in this you must disappoint. Clinging to that savage's mercy. Throwing all this away for what? You’re my daughter. You belong in District 2.”

Katniss had heard enough. “That's not your decision to make,” Katniss intervened. “Not anymore.”

Both turned to her. Commodus’ eyes narrowed. Clove looked like she’d seen a ghost but when Katniss reached for her, she clutched her hand like a lifeline.

“Let’s leave.” Katniss murmured, stepping as a barrier between Clove and her father, guiding her along, hand placed on the small of her back, into the hall again.

Yet her father followed, stepped into their way so he was back in Clove’s line of sight. Drawing the attention of the surrounding people. “You think she belongs to you now, that she just gives up her family and District for you, for some show romance?”

“No,” Katniss said, heart raging inside her chest, Effie’s words echoing in her mind and the weight in her dress pocket heavy. “I belong to her, if she would have me.” She tugged at their still joined hands, urging Clove to turn around, dropped to one knee.

The ground shook beneath her, a symphony of gasps, flashing camera lights blinding her. All she saw was Clove, nothing shone brighter. Reflected in Clove's eyes like a flame, the yellow gold ring with the obsidian inlays, the shard of midnight in its center, held between them.

Katniss’ trembled, but her voice didn’t.

“Clove, if these months taught me anything, it’s that surviving isn’t enough. I want to live — with you, beside you, for as long as you’ll let me. I would have rather died with your blade at my throat than spent the rest of my life without you. I would make the same choice again. Please come home with me, marry me, I’ll never let you regret it.” A pause.

Clove stared at her. Shocked. Utterly still. And then she stepped forward, gaze flickering between Katniss’ eyes.

The cameras caught her pull Katniss to her feet, hand on her cheek, lips pressed against hers in a kiss that shattered the room’s icy silence. “Yes.”

Cheers and whistling, in the corner of her eyes she noted Commodus stalk away, but ignored it pulled Clove into another kiss, trembling all over while she carefully put the ring where it belonged.

*

The Capitol gown laid discarded over a chair, the room dim but for the soft orange hum of the train’s lights against the window. Katniss sat on the edge of the bed in a plain cotton shirt, untangling the last of the pins from her hair. Her hands still trembled faintly. She couldn’t tell if it was from adrenaline or the weight of everything that had happened.

She heard the door open before she saw it — a soft hiss of movement, and then quiet footsteps.

Clove stood in the doorway, in her sleep wear already, makeup mostly gone, but eyes sharp in the low light. The obsidian ring on her finger glinted as her arms crossed. She stood silent in the doorway, carved from stone.

Katniss set the brush down, heart rising again for a very different reason. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Clove didn’t move forward. “I need to know… how much of that was for show.”

A beat.

Katniss stood, bare feet brushing the cool floor as she approached slowly. “It had to be public because of everything that's happening, so the cameras were part of it.”

Clove’s jaw twitched, but she didn’t look away.

“I didn't plan to ask you tonight. That might have been not exactly the plan,” Katniss offered a bit sheepish, knowing she had reacted to Clove's father, to the situation like always. Without thinking. "but the truth is, I’ve been thinking about it for days. The idea was mine. Always was. Effie helped me commission the ring. Obsidian, like your token. Like District 2. Like you — cutting and solid and unyielding. The gold… because it catches in your eyes. Because it looks like firelight on your skin. I didn’t know when I’d give it to you. I just knew I would.”

Clove blinked. Her arms lowered an inch.

“That's what's that between us means isn't it? That I'm yours. That you are mine. This makes it just official, makes them all see it,” Katniss added, her voice a little steadier now. “So why not now? ”

Clove stepped closer, slowly. The light caught again on the ring already on her hand — not hidden, just… uncertain. “You want them to see that?”

“I want you to see it,” Katniss said. “I want to go home with you. I want to show you the woods, the meadow, I want Prim and you to get to know each other, let them have their show and stage, I want everything, a future, something real.”

Clove didn’t speak at first. Her eyes dropped to the ring on her hand — like she was seeing it for the first time. Her thumb brushed over it once. “I want that too,” she said, voice rough. “I … I didn’t think it would be possible, that you would want me like that.”

Katniss stepped in, slow and sure. “Why?”

Clove’s throat worked. “Because of what I am. The things I did in the arena. Because I was—” Her voice caught. “Because sometimes I still feel like I’m only sharp edges. Like all I know is how to be dangerous.”

Katniss’ heart clenched. Gently, she reached up and cupped Clove’s face, brushing her thumb just beneath her cheekbone.

“I know exactly who you are,” she whispered. “I saw everything and I still want this. I want you, tell me do you too?”

Clove let out a shaky breath. Then she nodded once — like she was finally allowing herself to believe it. She covered Katniss' hand on her cheek, pressing a kiss against her inner wrist before leading them to the bed.

Clove moved slowly, almost like it might all vanish if she rushed, pulled Katniss down beside her, curling in as close as she could. Katniss went willingly, curling an arm around her waist, pulling her in until there was no space left between them.

“You don’t have to wear it,” Katniss murmured, brushing her lips against Clove’s hair. “Or ever. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to wear it,” Clove whispered back, her fingers curling into Katniss’ shirt. “I just needed to know if it was for me or them.”

Katniss tightened her hold, the trembling finally subsided. “Only for you.”

The train rumbled on beneath them, the world shifting past the window in a blur of blue and black. But here, in this bed, beneath the blankets — they were still.

No longer pieces on a board.

Just Katniss and Clove. A vow without a ceremony.

*

"Try one of these they are divine." Flavius held out a plate filled with even more delicacies.

"I can't even take one more." Katniss held up her hand, glancing at Clove who had also indulged but now was shaking her head.

"Here."

"What's this?"

"It's for when you're full. It makes you sick. So you can go on eating." Octavia held out a flute filled with purple liquid, explaining it slowly, kindly as to a child. "But not here, down the hall there are bathrooms. We don't want any accidents now on the dance floor or before the presidential welcome."

"How else are you supposed to taste everything? You both are so clueless it's adorable." Flavius interjected, coming to grasp Octavia's hands as they both giggled.

"I think it's time for a dance." Clove pushed the flute away, grasping Katniss' hand and pulling her away to the dance floor. "Katniss?"

"People are starving in Twelve." Katniss offered numbly, having to relax her grip on Clove's hand and waist. The music, the laughter, the cloud of artificial scents and lights. Katniss bit down on her tongue. "Here they throw up so they can eat even more just for the flavor."

They probably never had seen the emaciated bodies of children, the mother's bowed over them too exhausted to cry, laboring away for their other children.

"These are the same people who send 24 people every year into an arena to kill each other for entertainment." Clove whispered into her ear. "This is the last stop. We just need to get through tonight, and then we can go home."

Katniss nodded, pulling Clove closer to herself, basking in the comfort her presence brought.

"Katniss. Clove. This is Plutarch Heavensbee. Head Gamemaker. Successor to Seneca Crane." Effie appeared next to them, next to her was a large man with blonde hair in a purple robe.

"Head Gamemaker is hardly a long-term job, so you must be already halfway to your exit then?"

"Clove!" Effie exclaimed while Plutarch smiled unbothered.

"May I?" Clove sent her a look, knowing they could hardly deny him, but Katniss was surprised when he took her hands.

"So how is the party?"

"It's a little overwhelming." Katniss didn't meet his gaze, he was far too close only to do worse by starting mindless small talk.

"It's appalling. Still if you abandon your moral judgments it can be fun."

"So are you having fun?"

"I'm Head Gamemaker fun is my job."

"Is that what happened to Seneca Crane? Too much fun?"

"Seneca decided to...uh... quit breathing."

"Decided?"

"It was that or cutting his own throat. Head Gamemaker never been the most secure job in the world."

Katniss studied him surprised by his frankness, something the Capitol lacked. Always hidden agendas. So what did he want? "So why do it?"

"Same reason as you. I volunteered."

"Why?"

"Ambition. A chance to make the games mean something."

"The games don't mean anything. They are only a means to scare us." Katniss snapped, glaring at him, surprised when it didn't earn her much but a slight nod. No surprise at all.

"Maybe it's you who inspired me to come back." Plutarch stepped back, pulling a golden watch from his pocket. Believe it or not I have a strategy meeting tonight. I’ll have to be going soon,” he said, flipping open the lid. "It starts at midnight". He ran his thumb across the crystal face of the watch and for a moment an image appeared. A mockingjay. Exactly like her pin. He closed the watch just as the trumpet sounded. "The presidential welcome. You better go. I'm sure we'll meet again."

Katniss didn't have to wait. Clove appeared the moment Plutarch left, cocking her head in silent question, but she shook her head. Confused herself. Nervous. Following the masses until they were once more pushed into the spotlight underneath the balcony where President Snow stood. Glass in hand, spreading his arms wide as he soaked in the cheers of the crowd.

"Tonight. On this, the last day of their tour. I want to welcome our two victors. Two young people who embody our ideals. Of strength. And valor. And I personally want to congratulate them on the announcement of their engagement. What do you think about us throwing them a wedding right here in the Capitol?"

The crowd went crazy shouting and stomping. Cheering and turning to them and Katniss pulled Clove closer by the waist, turning her sneer into a smile while attempting to ignore how many hands reached out for them. Touching and petting them like livestock.

"Your love has inspired us. And I know it will go on inspiring us. Everyday, for as long as you may live." Snow drew their attention once more, staring down at them directly before lifting his glass in a toast.

As long as you may live. Was it a threat? A promise? Had they convinced him? He stared for a moment longer, not a single hint in his expression before he disappeared back into the mansion. When she looked at Clove she also only shook her head.

*

The train had barely stopped moving before Katniss slipped her hand into Clove’s and pulled her along, bursting out of the train and into the District. Not lingering on the platform or the Justice Building, slowing only when she hit the rougher pavement of the square. Taking it in, inhaling the scent of smoke and wilderness. The streets of District 12 were rougher beneath their boots — and to Katniss, far more real.

"Here around the square the merchants live. We call this the merchant district and where we live the Seam. You saw the Justice Building, next to it the mayor and his family lives. My mother and her family had their apothecary here before she married my father. There's also a sweetshop and the bakery, Prim always loved their baked goods, she’d probably be a better guide there. But it's not the only place to procure goods. Come."

Katniss guided her along some back alleys until they reached the Hob nestled in the middle of the District. Nodded at the hello's and waves and greetings her appearance brought, rummaged through her pockets for money to do some trading. Haggling more for show than anything, District Twelve was nothing but prideful and grinned when Clove joined her actively. Shooting a look at some of them, who got too daring with their outrageous prices, overcharging her. Yet by the cock of her head, the way the corner of her lips twitched Clove was aware of it.

Afterwards her growling stomach lead her to the familiar smell of bubbling stew. Greasy Sae generously filling their bowls which Katniss eagerly dug into while Clove hesitated and Katniss made the decision not to tell her what questionable meat Greasy Sae sometimes experimented with. Making small talk, Katniss forced her to take her money, promising to come back tomorrow with some game before Greasy Sae conspiratorially leaned over her stall.

"Your girl here’s got sharp eyes. Well-matched, might just fit right in. You bring her by proper next time.”

Clove blinked. “Was that a compliment or a warning?”

“Both,” Katniss said, smirking then lead her out the Hob.

They’d just left the Hub, arms full of trade — roots and cloth, dried herbs, a bottle of something probably illegal that Greasy Sae had slipped Clove with a conspiratorial wink — when Katniss spotted her.

Madge stood near the apothecary, bundled in a soft blue coat, a satchel over one shoulder and her blond hair unbraided for once, falling in clean lines past her shoulders. She looked surprised to see them — or maybe not surprised, exactly. Expectant.

“Katniss,” she said, smiling. Then, “Hi.”

Clove gave a polite nod. Madge’s smile didn’t dim, but it didn’t broaden either.

“Didn’t expect you to be back already,” Madge said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Figured the Capitol would try to drag the tour out another week or two, especially after the announcement of your engagement. Congratulation.”

“Thank you. No luckily they didn’t, but they probably expect us back again sooner than I hope.”

“At least you are home for now. It’s good to see you still wear it, it suits you.” Madge briefly touched the lapel of Katniss' blouse, where Cinna had put the Mockingjay pin.

She said it with a warmth that made Katniss blink, glad to have a friend. They’d become close — or closer — after the Games. Helping her give out the rations of the Capitol, visit the orphanage, helped her survive the early days of a million cameras and speeches upon her return home.

Next to her, Clove shifted, the movement so minor Katniss wouldn’t have caught it if they hadn’t been standing so close together.

“We were just heading to the old house,” Katniss said. “I wanted to show her around properly.”

“Right,” Madge said. Her eyes flicked to Clove again. Then back to Katniss. “Of course.”

There was a pause. “I’m glad you’re back safe,” Madge said, a little quieter now. “Both of you.”

Something sat unsaid in her voice. Not sharp, not bitter — just quietly left hanging.

“We’ll see you soon,” Katniss said, offering a smile, already half-turning.

“Sure,” Madge murmured. “Say hi to Prim for me.”

Clove didn’t speak until they were out of earshot. “So.”

“So?” Katniss glanced over, adjusting the satchel on her shoulder.

“Peeta wasn’t lying, that there are a lot of boys back home who like you, only it doesn't seem to be just boys.”

Katniss blinked thrown by the mention of the other tribute and sudden turn in conversation. “What?”

Clove gave her a look. “Come on.”

“What because we are friends? It’s new. We barely interacted before I left for the Games. We were both just outsiders so we had no choice but stick together sometimes for school projects and stuff.” Katniss thought about it then back to their goodbye when Madge had burst into the room, giving her the pin, kissing her cheek. Her hand unconsciously went to her cheek.

Clove followed the gesture with narrowed eyes, scoffing under her breath, but there was no real malice there. “You're hopeless. How can be someone so observant and so oblivious at the same time? She literally looked at you like she memorized every freckle, might just want to climb you like a tree."

Katniss flushed. “I'm not. Projecting much? She's the mayor's daughter she could have anyone, she would have said something."I

“She wouldn’t,” Clove said. “But if she ever does, I’ll be sure to remind her you’re taken.”

Katniss snorted, shooting her a teasing sideways glance. “Jealous?”

Clove gave her a look. “You wouldn’t like me jealous.”

Katniss smirked, then leaned in to bump their shoulders together. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Clove didn’t reply — just slipped her hand into Katniss’ as they walked, linking them together with a quiet possessiveness she didn’t bother to hide.

And Katniss, for all her obliviousness, understood that perfectly.

The sun setting as they walked the dusty road near the mine. The air reeked of coal and old sweat, the same familiar heaviness Katniss had grown up breathing in. She hadn’t missed it.

Miners spilled out of the pit gate in weary clumps. Clove didn’t speak, grasping her hand tighter, the twitch in her jaw the only weakness she allowed. Katniss hastened their steps not wanting to linger then she heard the voice.

“Didn’t think you’d show your face down here.”

Gale. Leaning against the fence with soot streaked across his cheek and bitterness carved deep into his voice. A few older miners stood nearby, looking anywhere but at them.

Katniss closed her eyes, exhaled but came to a stop. “We just got in," she said evenly. “We are going to the house.”

“Ah yes the Victory Tour,” Gale cut in before she could say more. “I kept an eye on Prim while you were off… surviving.” He spat the word like it was something cheap. "As much as I could being in the mines all day after all not all of us can get paraded around all day."

Katniss’ jaw clenched. “You think I asked for the cameras? The parades?” She kept her voice low but firm. “When I know Prim is back here waiting for me?”

Gale didn’t blink. “All I know is I’m still in the mines. Still breathing dust. Still feeding my family. And you… you’re living in a mansion, sleeping next to one of them.”

His eyes flicked to Clove — not even subtle. Just a raw sneer behind the words.

Katniss took a slow breath, stepping in front of Clove. Her free hand clenched shut. “I’ve been trying to help. Just because you’re too proud to accept it doesn't mean you can ignore it. I know what you did for me while I was in the arena, taking care of Prim, and I'll never forget that. But I've been helping out your family as best as I can."

“You think dropping off game makes up for all this?”

Clove didn’t speak, but her posture shifted — slight, alert. Suddenly she was shoulder to shoulder with Katniss, looking like she was measuring the distance between her knuckles and his jaw.

“You know what I don’t get?” Gale went on, voice rough. “You used to hate Careers. You used to talk like you’d never sell out. And now you come back with Capitol clothes and her. Acting like it’s normal.”

Katniss felt the words slice through the space between them. "You weren't in the arena, you don't know what it is like, you don't know what we went through. And there are no Careers and us, only the Capitol and us, we are all District."

“I know who you used to be,” he muttered. “I don’t see her anymore.”

Katniss looked at him for a long second — the friend she used to trust, used to hunt beside, who used to understand her better than anyone. And now all she saw was someone who wanted her frozen in place. Unchanged. Untouched by everything that had nearly destroyed her.

“No, I'm not who you thought I was,” she said quietly. “Be angry if you want I don't care. But don't pretend you have a monopoly on suffering."

She tuned around, relieved when Clove wordlessly followed, their hands still linked.

And finally, to the Seam. The smell of smoke and coal, the edges of the world where Katniss had grown up not in walls but in want.

Clove’s eyes didn’t miss anything. She never had, even back in the arena. She watched the people first: quiet-eyed and thin, with shoulders bent inward from years of waiting for bad news. She said nothing at first, just let the details settle into her — the way the soot clung to their clothes, the way every child had that wary look, like they understood hunger already.

Finally, Clove muttered, “They're so… thin.”

Katniss didn’t flinch. “This is better than it used to be,” she said softly. “We’ve been getting extra rations since the Games. Victor’s shares are spread out — mostly to the families in the Seam.”

Clove looked back at the street, guilt flickering across her face. “This is better?”

Katniss nodded. “The year before my first reaping, we almost didn’t make it through winter. Some didn’t.”

She paused outside the weathered door of her old home, fingers brushing the chipped wood before she pushed it open.

Inside was smaller than Clove expected. Darker. But Katniss’ fingers were reverent as they touched the faded table, the spot on the wall where Prim had once measured her growth with charcoal lines.

“This still feels more like home. The Victors House is just so hollow, all cold marble stone.”

Clove looked around, taking in the crammed shelves, the old kettle, the thin curtains. Then she turned to Katniss — and something in her expression gentled.

“You really came from nothing.”

“I had Prim,” Katniss rebuked. “And my mother, even when she couldn’t speak. That was something.”

Clove understood. With what she called father. Living in the training facilities the last few years. She stepped closer, leaning her weight against the table beside Katniss. Their shoulders brushed.

“I don’t care about the Capitol dresses or the titles,” Clove said quietly. “But this? This I want to understand.”

Katniss looked at her, heart caught in her throat. “Why?”

“Because it made you.”

Katniss didn't answer. Just took her hand again, both of theirs rough with calluses, and led her toward the fading light.

They walked in silence until the air grew clearer and the streets faded into wild overgrowth. Clove’s grip on her hand didn’t ease, but she didn’t speak either — not until they passed through the fence and into the meadow, where the world cracked open and became sky.

“This is where you hunt?”

Katniss nodded. Whistling a few notes for the mockingjays to pick up. The grass whispered under their feet, the forest thick with bird calls and hidden movement. Collecting her bow out of its hiding place she led Clove to the meadow. Settled down against the trunk of a tree, next to a bed of katniss with Clove in between her legs, her back pressed against her front. Their hands intertwined over her stomach, Katniss playing with the ring on Clove's finger.

Watching the sun set. She was home. They were home.

*

The sun had set as they toed off their boots and hung up their coats. Back in the mansion, in the hallway seemed to be a few of Clove's possessions stacked. Probably from the train, for once distorting the picture-perfect house, the polished floors and too-clean walls.

Katniss stopped at the bottom of the staircase, Clove’s bag slung over her shoulder, the other hand gripping the banister. Only now realizing something.

“So,” she said, quieter than she meant to, “do you want the room next to mine?”

Clove tilted her head. “You sure?”

Katniss nodded once. “It’s yours either way. I just thought—if you ever wanted space. A door you could close.”

Even if we still sleep in the same bed. Even if we cling to each other all night so we don’t drown.

Clove didn’t smile, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes as she reached out to take the bag. Katniss let her.

Then, her mother’s voice cut in, brittle and sharp from the hallway. “You’re seventeen, Katniss.”

She turned. Her mother stood with arms crossed, a stiffness in her posture that hadn’t been there in years, not since before—

““You’re seventeen — you just came back from…" her mother’s voice cracked, then steeled itself. “Whatever that was. And now you’re engaged? Living together? No one even asked me.”

Katniss blinked. “You mean the proposal which happened in front of a million cameras? The wedding in the Capitol that’s already being planned — where Clove and I get so much say? They certainly didn't ask you if I could participate in the Game, so I hardly think they'll ask you about the wedding."

Her mother’s expression didn’t budge.

She let the next part fall flat and simple. “ Just as I didn't have to. The only person I had to, wanted to ask was Clove."

Clove had gone still behind her, unreadable.

“You’re a child—”

“I was a child,” Katniss snarled, voice rising fast. “When he died. I was eleven. And you—you checked out. You left. You barely looked at us. I hunted. I fed us. I was the one who had to take care of Prim, keep her clothed, keep her alive, raise her on my own. I took over as head of the family because you left me no other choice. You don't get to act like you are suddenly my mother now."

Her mother flinched like she’d been slapped. “You don’t understand what I went through—”

“No,” Katniss said, breath sharp and trembling. “I don’t. And I’m sorry you lost him. But we lost him too. And then I lost you when I needed you the most. ”

Silence pressed hard between them. Her mother’s eyes were glassy, mouth half open like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Maybe there weren’t any. Instead, she nodded, averted her eyes, left.

Katniss turned away—only to see Prim standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and pale, lips parted. She must’ve heard everything.

Her throat tightened. Clove stepped forward quietly and put a hand on Katniss’ lower back, grounding her, not possessive—present.

“I’m sorry,” Katniss offered, Prim had deserved better than she had gotten. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Prim shook her head and crossed the room, arms wrapping tight around her sister’s middle. Katniss held on, knuckles white, forehead against Prim’s hair.

No one said anything after that.

The quiet stayed.

*

The crack of the whip echoed before Katniss even saw what was happening.

She sprinted toward the sound—toward the cries, the crowd, the cold sting in the air—and the sight slammed into her all at once.

Gale. Stripped to the waist. Tied to the whipping post in the square.

Blood already ran down his back in red rivers, steaming in the winter air. His face was twisted, back arching in pain as he barely made a sound.

“Poaching,” said a voice. “is strictly forbidden. Let this be a reminder for all of you.”

A Peacekeeper she didn’t recognize—the new one. Tall, broad, uniform crisp and clean, eyes dead as marble. He drew the whip back again.

Katniss moved before she could think. “Gale!”

The Peacekeepers tried to block her, but she shoved past them. “Stop!” she shouted, desperation and fury boiling in her throat. “What are you doing?”

Crack.

The whip caught Gale across the shoulders again, and he jerked. Katniss was there a second later, placing herself between him and the next blow.

The whip hit flesh again—the sharp snap of it connecting with her cheek.

White-hot fire tore across her face. She stumbled, disoriented, tasting copper, and nearly went to her knees.

“Get her out of the way!” the Peacekeeper barked.

“I said stop!” she screamed, throwing herself over Gale’s body. She felt the next blow hit her ribs, the thud of it stealing the breath from her lungs.

White agony exploded across her back as the whip bit into her coat, through it, into skin. Katniss gasped, nearly dropped, but remained hunched over Gale.

Another strike came before she could yell again. This time it caught her across the shoulder, angling down to the small of her back. She cried out, stumbled, caught herself. Before she could fall onto Gale.

The whip cracked again.

This time across her hip. Again. Again.

Someone screamed. Not her.

Then—

“Stop!” Haymitch’s voice, hoarse and furious, cut through the crowd. Katniss heaved up her head, blinked against the blood clouding her vision.

“That’s Katniss Everdeen,” Haymitch barked, forcing his way forward, his face red and flushed with cold and fury. “Victor of the last Games. Capitol sweetheart. One of the faces of the greatest weddings of this century."

The Commander froze mid-motion. Only slightly.

“She’s got a photo shoot coming up. Interviews. All above your salary,” Haymitch snarled. “President Snow will have your hide if she shows up with her back flayed open.”

Katniss panted, on her knees in front of Gale, trembling, vision swimming. She could feel the blood soaking her waistband. Her body throbbing.

The Commander lowered the whip, but his face didn't change. “Interfering with Peacekeeper discipline is a punishable offense.”

“I never said she was smart.” Haymitch offered, hand placatively raised while the Commander looked like he wanted to continue whipping them all anyway.

And then another voice came, steady and quiet—dangerous in its precision.

“This is a first infraction, for both of them. No formal charges and you already publically whipped them both. My fiancé certainly hasn’t been apprehended and there is no documentation of any offense committed, Commander Thread.” Clove stepped in front of them all, far too close to the Commander and Katniss knees gave out beneath her as she tried to get up.

Thread studied her sharply, eyes narrowing. “You are in the wrong District.”

Clove held her ground, chin high. “I’m here planning my wedding, getting acquainted with my new home.”

The whip cracked through the air, hitting no one, the Commander simply pulling it to himself, wiping the blood off it, which spattered into the snow and Clove’s face. Clove didn't flinch. “Welcome then to your new home,” Thread offered coldly. “A choice you’ll come to regret, turning away from your own District,” he added with a glance toward Katniss, dripping with thinly veiled disdain, something left unspoken which Clove picked up.

Katniss’ heart thudded. She met Clove’s gaze briefly. It was unreadable—but fire banked under the surface.

“We are all the same,” Clove replied coolly. “Even the outer districts.”

Thread stepped closer to her. “Better watch your tone, there is no first offense for treason.”

Haymitch seized the moment. “Now they have both blood on their faces,” he said loudly, gesturing to Katniss. “We’ll be late for the Capitol’s interview because of your mistake. Think Snow’s gonna thank you for that?”

Thread’s eyes moved back to Katniss. The red on her cheek. The crowd watching. The cameras tucked at the edge of the square.

He signaled.

“Untie the boy,” he said curtly. “Clear the square!”

The Peacekeepers moved quickly. Gale slumped forward limpless as they lowered him, unconscious.

“Better get her cleaned up fast,” Thread added, voice like ice. “And make sure she behaves from now on.” He turned and walked away without looking back.

The square held its breath until he disappeared. Then before the Peacekeepers started to clear the square most scurried away, though some miners remained.

Clove moved first, crouching beside Katniss.

Katniss felt her hand hover—then press gently to her shoulder.

“You idiot,” Clove said softly.

“I couldn’t just stand there,” Katniss rasped, voice shaking.

“I know,” Clove said. Her voice was tight. “I know. But next time wait for me."

Haymitch knelt beside Gale. “He’s bad,” he muttered.

“We need to get him back to my mother,” Katniss said. “Can we carry him back?”

“We’ll help. He’s part of our crew.” A miner had spoken up, still in miner’s clothing, nearly black against the white of the snow.

“Haymitch will take care of it. You’ll need her attention too.” Clove interrupted, not waiting for agreement. She was too busy brushing a strand of Katniss’ blood-matted hair out of her eyes. Her fingers lingered before she slipped beneath Katniss’ arm, bracing her weight.

Katniss didn’t speak. Her back screamed with every step, her eyes stinging from the cold and blood, but the only thing she could feel clearly was Clove’s arm around her, steady and unyielding.

And Thread’s words echoing in her skull.

Clove had chosen her.

But so had Katniss.

And that choice had nearly gotten them both whipped in front of all of District 12.

*

"Keep this on your eye." Prim exchanged her towel filled with snow for another, gently pressing it to Katniss’ swelling face. "You could’ve lost it."

Katniss didn’t answer. Her gaze stayed fixed on Gale, face-down on the kitchen table, snow coat on his back, moaning in his delirium. He twitched occasionally, brow furrowed, skin burning.

Prim reached up and took Katniss by the chin, forcing her to meet her eyes. "He's going to be alright. Now let me see your back?"

Katniss blinked, then nodded stiffly and leaned forward to let her sister inspect it. She hadn't let anyone touch it but Clove not after her freak-out at her mother about Gale and the medicine.

"Clove cleaned it well. It’s good the hits are dispersed and not all in the same place. I’m going to wrap you with a snow coat — just for the night. Try not to touch it until tomorrow."

"You’ve been learning a lot," Katniss said in the quiet, clenching her jaw as the snow hit raw welts and sent a burn of cold straight through her spine.

"Mother’s been teaching me more since the..." Prim trailed off. The words didn’t need finishing. Since the Games. Maybe to stay rooted in the present. Possibly just to help them survive if she didn't come back.

At least their mother had kept her word this time. She had remained.

"You have the temperament for it. You’d make a great healer," Katniss murmured.

"You think so?"

Katniss turned toward her, despite the pull of her back, and reached up to cup her cheek. "I know, little duck. The way you helped Mother with Gale just now and I already feel better. The people here adore you."

"Because they respect you," Prim replied, beaming a little as she tied the wrap in place. "Now rest is the best medicine. Just don’t lie on your back."

Katniss hesitated, glancing at Gale. He let out another hoarse breath, shifting against the table. "Someone should stay down here. In case he wakes."

Prim nodded. "Then stay. I’ll bring you tea before I go to bed."

"Thank you."

Katniss pressed a kiss to Prim’s head, then dragged a chair over beside Gale, careful not to let her back touch anything. She folded her arms on the table and rested her head sideways against them, close to him.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the house settling. Then a low murmur.

"Catnip?"

"Gale."

He whimpered when he tried to move. Katniss reached out to steady him, brushing hair from his face. "Don’t move. Let the medicine do its job."

His hand clumsily found hers, covering it, clutching it like a lifeline. His eyes fluttered open — barely focused — but his voice held clarity beneath the pain.

"You were right." he rasped. "We should’ve left. When you said. Just gone. Into the woods."

Katniss stilled. She hadn’t expected him to bring that up. Not now. Not after everything.

After the Games, she’d panicked. The Capitol’s threats were still fresh, still sharp. She had begged Gale to run. Take their families. Disappear. Vanish into the trees. He hadn’t believed her. Thought her victory was the end of it. That she’d just... go on.

"Catnip..." he whispered again, tugging at her hand. She leaned closer, scanning his face for pain or confusion. And that’s when he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. Just a clumsy collision of cracked lips and stubble, hot breath and desperation.

It wasn’t Clove.

Katniss jerked back, pain flaring in her spine as her back hit the chair. "Don’t do that," she hissed.

"Why?" Gale asked, voice edged with bitterness. "Because of her?"

Katniss stood. Cold. Steady. "You’re my oldest friend."

"And I know you. Better than anyone. We get each other. She’s not like us. She doesn't know you. She’s—"

"She was there. In the arena, you can’t hide. Clove saw everything.” Katniss cut him off, voice firm. " And we—Clove and I—we’re engaged."

"For the show," he snapped. "For the Capitol."

Katniss’ jaw clenched. "Have you even looked at the ring on her finger?"

He didn’t answer.

"I designed it," she said. "I gave it to her. I meant it. She’s not 'like us'? She is one of us. Because she’s mine."

The voice from the doorway was calm. Precise. And sharp enough to cut glass. "And I’m hers. Isn’t that how the vows go?"

Both turned.

Clove stepped into the room like she’d been standing there a while. Arms folded, eyes cool, expression unreadable.

"Or maybe you skipped that part," she added, gaze narrowing on Gale. "You know. The mutual part. The one where you don’t wait for someone to almost die and then try to rewrite history so you can shoot your shot."

Katniss swallowed, her spine straightening a bit more. "It wasn’t anything," she said, low. Not defensive. Just certain. "He kissed me."

Clove didn’t look at her. Not yet. "I saw." Her voice was a blade. "You stopped it. That’s what matters."

Then her attention returned to Gale, and it was somehow worse than fury — it was disinterest, weaponized. Clove’s eyes raked over Gale like he was something she might have stabbed back in the arena — slow and on purpose. "You really thought this was the moment? She’s barely upright, and you’re already trying to push her into a mold she outgrew the second she crawled out of that arena."

Gale flinched but said nothing, and Clove stepped in closer, voice low and laced with venom. "You didn’t believe her. You didn’t protect her. You told her to move on. And now what? She comes back changed, scarred, hunted — and your grand plan is to kiss her when she’s exhausted and hurting and looking after you?"

She scoffed, cold and sharp. "Some friend you are. At least confronted with your inferiority she luckily knows how good she has it already."

She stepped past him, toward Katniss, her gaze softening. "There's blood on your bandage, and you need rest, c’mon." Holding out her hand which Katniss immediately took, following her out the room, only to pause when Clove did at the threshold.

"And by the way," Clove added coolly, not bothering to turn around, "don’t call her ‘Catnip’ again. That nickname died the second you used it to guilt her into returning your feelings."

She didn’t wait for his reply. Neither of them did.

*

The smell of something being fried in a pan hit Katniss before her feet even made it to the bottom of the stairs. It was still early, the grey morning light barely shining through the windows, the chill had not yet been chased away by the central heating of the house. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, shirt hanging loose off one shoulder while clinging to her back which she hoped was because of the ointment and not with dried blood again. It still twinged with every step as she padded barefoot toward the sound of clattering pans and was that singing?

The hum of voices tugged her forward.

From the hallway, she paused in the doorway to the kitchen.

Prim stood at the stove, barefoot too, an intricate set of braids falling down her back as she flipped a pan with practiced ease. Their mother moved quietly behind her, sleeves rolled, a bowl of dough cradled in her arms. And Clove sat on the counter, one leg swinging, a mug of something steaming cupped in her hands. Probably coffee again. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and she was smiling—genuinely smiling—at something Prim had just said, wearing one of Katniss’ shirts like it belonged to her. Setting off all kind of fluttery feelings in her gut, Katniss couldn't even begin to identify.

Katniss stilled. The whole scene felt fragile, like stepping into a dream she might break just by breathing.

Then Prim started singing.

Well, there's a dark and a troubled side of life

There's a bright and a sunny side too

Though we meet with the darkness and strife

Oh, the sunny side we also may view

Her voice, light and sure, filled the air, and Katniss felt something shift in her chest. Not pain. Not grief.

It was an old song, one their father used to sing often after returning from work, cradling Prim in his arms when she was a babe and when she was older swaying them both to it and even later teaching them the steps to dance to it. No matter how tired he was, a bright smile on his face as she spun them around, entreated their mother with teasing grabs and looks until she joined in too. After he was gone, Katniss had only sung the song once in front of their mother, flinching when it caused her to go completely catatonic, clasping her hands over her ears. So, she sang it seldomly, sometimes on the way to school, when Prim needed something cheery. But since Rue, she hadn’t sung at all. The music had lodged in her throat and stayed there like a stone.

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side

Keep on the sunny side of life

It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way

If we keep on the sunny side of life

Woo Yeah Come on

Prim had kept singing, though. Filling the silence Katniss left behind. As if she were trying to plant something back into the scorched ground. Filling these cold high walls with music and warmth, forcing them to become a home, urging Katniss back home too. Trying to bring her sister home.

Today, for the first time, it was working. Prim fumbled the second verse.

Oh, the storm and its fury broke today

Crushing-

She paused, brow furrowed as the words escaped her mind. Frowning, lips forming a pout and Katniss breath caught somewhere between her ribs and throat. She hadn’t sung since Rue. Barely could hum without her chest tightening , threatening to choke her. But here was her sister.

Oh, the storm and its fury broke today

Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear

Her voice came out rusty, rough at the edges like a blade not sharpened in a while. But it was there. And Prim turned around to face her, startled, but her eyes lit up the way the woods did when the first light hit the frost.

Prim beamed. Her mother looked up, still as a statue. And Clove turned toward her with that soft, unreadable look that always made Katniss feel like something was catching in her throat.

Clouds and storms will in time pass away

Hey, oh, the sun again will shine bright and clear

Katniss stepped forward. Her voice grew stronger with each line.

Keep on the sunny side,

always on the sunny side

Keep on the sunny side of life

It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way

If we keep on the sunny side of life

Prim joined back in, lifting the harmony with ease, and suddenly they were moving together, steps half-remembered from childhood—turn, clap, spin—until they were both laughing, out of breath, boots sliding on the worn kitchen tiles.

Their mother wiped her hands on her apron, eyes shining.

Clove clapped along, grinning, her coffee forgotten.

Then the pan hissed violently.

“Oh—!”

Katniss lunged toward the stove, snatching the pan off the heat just before it caught fire.

Prim squeaked and ducked behind her, giggling. “Oops.”

“That's all you have to say?” Katniss muttered, half-laughing, half-flushed.

Clove leaned against the counter with a smirk. “She’s clearly your sister. Can’t even finish breakfast without turning it into a dramatic performance. Or something catching fire.”

“Very funny. Shouldn't you have been paying attention too as a supervising adult?” Katniss nudged her with her hip.

“Little Everdeen assured me she had it under control.” Clove caught her around the waist before she could escape, voice low against her ear. “And someone was being a bit distracting.”

Katniss stilled, breath catching—not from pain this time, but from the way Clove’s fingers lingered.

The kitchen was warm. Her sister was smiling. Her mother was here. Clove’s hand lingered at her hip before stealing a quick kiss which Katniss returned despite the taste of coffee.

And perhaps this was what happiness felt like.

*

Katniss laid on her side, facing Clove. Their bodies were molded together, Clove nestled against her chest, while Katniss slowly traced the curve of her spine with gentle fingertips. The silence between them was full, steady—until the door creaked, shifting slightly on its hinges.

Prim stood in the gap, barefoot despite the cold, wearing only a woolen nightdress.

“Can I sleep here?” she asked softly.

“C’mere,” Katniss murmured.

Prim hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Clove. Right. Clove.

Katniss glanced at the other girl, who had already stirred, her eyes opening when she sensed the pause.

“Don’t let the cold in, little Everdeen,” Clove murmured.

It was enough. Prim slipped inside, and Katniss rolled onto her back, lifting the blanket so Prim could curl up against her side. She fit beneath her chin perfectly, long limbs stretching past Katniss’ own.

“You’re growing like a weed,” Katniss murmured with a small, pleased smile. “One of these days, you won’t fit anymore.”

Even just a few months of enough food, a balanced diet—they had done wonders. They’d always eaten better than most in the Seam because of her hunting, but it had still been bare survival. Now, Prim was filling out, shooting up.

Prim didn’t answer—only hummed quietly and tucked herself in tighter.

“I thought maybe we could stop by the bakery before school tomorrow,” Katniss offered, voice low. “You could pick out something for Clove to try, too.”

“We shouldn’t,” Prim mumbled into her front. “We can’t keep ignoring what’s in front of us. That’s not living.”

Her voice had risen slightly, though she still didn’t meet Katniss’ eyes.

“What can’t we ignore?” Katniss asked, frowning.

Prim wiggled slightly out of her embrace, shifting to look up at her.

“You don’t have to protect Mother and me. We’re with you. We can’t just sit still and accept this anymore. We need to organise, to rise up against them. We need to—”

“Prim!” Katniss hissed.

Her hand clamped over her sister’s mouth before the word could form. Her eyes darted toward the shadows, heart thudding, muscles coiled. Every instinct screamed too loud, too much, too dangerous.

“Not another word,” she said, voice sharp—sharper than she’d ever used with Prim. “Do you understand me?”

She only loosened her grip when Clove, steady and quiet, pulled the blanket back up over them, tucking all three in together. Katniss was trembling.

She pulled Prim tighter to her side with one arm, reaching for Clove with the other, anchoring herself with their warmth. Her breathing was unsteady—until Clove leaned close and started counting softly into her ear.

One, two, three, four...

Her heartbeat gradually slowed. But Prim’s words were a copy just like the cries of a jabberjay.

“Who have you been talking to?” Katniss asked sharply.

Prim hesitated. Even in the dark, her bright blue eyes gleamed.

“On the Victory Tour—after District Eleven—we didn’t really see much, except the Career districts,” she whispered. “But there was shouting in one. I think it was Eight. They yelled that you should say what you really think.”

Katniss stayed silent.

“Rory’s been saying things, too,” Prim added.

Rory. Gale’s little brother. A year younger than Prim.

Even after getting whipped, had Gale become so reckless he’d speak like that in front of his own siblings?

“You’re going to keep your distance from now on,” Katniss said flatly.

“What? But after what happened with Gale, most people already avoid them.” Prim’s voice was defiant, indignant.

Katniss’ jaw clenched. She’d talk to Hazelle. Gale wasn’t just endangering himself—he was putting his little siblings, even Prim at risk.

“He should have learned from that,” she snapped. “You’ll do as I say. And I’ll be talking to Hazelle.”

Prim huffed and pulled away slightly, just enough to make Katniss want to hold her tighter—

“Stop,” Clove said quietly.

Both sisters froze.

“Katniss is trying to keep you safe,” Clove said. Her voice was calm, but firm. “I know you probably feel useless. Helpless. But that’s not true.”

Prim averted her gaze, twisting her fingers in her lap.

“We’re with you,” she said again. Her eyes found Katniss’. “Since the last Games... something’s different. I can see it.”

“What do you see?” Katniss asked softly.

“Hope.”

Katniss swallowed hard.

“Whatever I do—it comes back to Mother. And to you. I need you both safe.”

“You already are helping,” Clove told her, reaching out. She hesitated—then gently took one of Prim’s hands. “People in the Capitol know you. They like you. Without you, Katniss wouldn’t have been half as memorable to the sponsors as she was. And you’re learning from your mother, aren’t you? How to be a healer?”

Prim nodded slowly.

“What happened to Gale... and Katniss... won’t be the last,” Clove went on. “People like you will matter. More than you think.”

Prim studied her for a long moment, as if measuring the weight of Clove’s words. Then she turned to Katniss, expectant.

Katniss gave a small nod. “Come here, little duck.”

The tension broken, Prim didn’t hesitate this time. She burrowed back into Katniss’ side, tucking herself beneath her chin once more.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry too.” Katniss kissed the crown of her head and reached for Clove’s hand, weaving their fingers together before brushing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

She shot Clove a thankful smile.

Her eyes were just starting to flutter closed when Clove jolted with a quiet “oof.”

Katniss blinked, then made out a pair of gleaming yellow eyes in the dark.

Buttercup had leapt up and settled precariously on Clove’s ribs, his purring scratchy and self-satisfied.

Clove stared at him in stunned silence, then with a huff just covered her eyes with her arm, submitting to her fate.

*

The projection hummed far too loud in the silence bathing the room in shadows.

They’d turned the lights off an hour ago, but no one had moved. No one spoke. The only light in the room came from the flickering Capitol broadcast, washing their living room in soft blue and silver. Her mother sat rigid on the couch, her hand clenched around Prim’s. Clove perched sideways on one of the arm rests, having leaned against her until Katniss couldn’t stand sitting around anymore.

Now Katniss stood behind them, in between her pacing, arms crossed so tightly her nail beds started to bleed again, abused too much already.

Snow’s announcement was coming up. After too much fanfare. The replays of their Games followed by the other Quarter Quells. The wait for the knife far worse than the blow itself. The question what cruelty, what sadistic plague they would hit the Districts with now. Triple the tributes? What rather whose children would she lead to their slaughter?

Katniss didn’t trust her legs to stay still much longer. Her pulse beat a frantic rhythm, and the air felt too thin, like the mountain winds in the Seam before a storm.

Then the screen flared, and the Capitol seal spun forward with its usual metallic sting.

President Snow appeared, pale and elegant, as if there hadn’t been any uprisings happening in any Districts, as if he himself hadn’t slithered his way to District Twelve poised to strike. But what were a few unrests to him, especially as they never even licked at the edge of his power. No he stood and Katniss shivered, smelled the cloying mixture of roses and blood as his voice demanded attention.

“On the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games…”

Katniss’ stomach twisted, braced against the inevitable. She glanced at Prim. Her sister leaned forward slightly, shoulders tense.

“…as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol…”

Katniss knew.

“…the male and female tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors.”

Her heart stopped. The blood in her ears roared. Barely she made out Prim’s disbelieving “What does it mean?”

Katniss couldn’t breathe. The room spun — not violently, just enough to feel like the ground no longer belonged to her.

"No." The word tore out of her before she could stop it. She took a step back, one hand reaching for the wall, needing something solid, something real. "No, no, no."

Victors. She was the only female victor in District Twelve.

There was the answer if he had been convinced, if they had stomped out the sparks of rebellion. A choked sound escaped her throat.

Clove turned to her, ashen, reaching for her, seeking comfort, offering, no matter, Katniss stumbled back. Met Prim’s gaze saw her trying to get up, but Katniss couldn’t look at her, couldn’t face either of them.

The Games. Again.

A camera cut to the Capitol crowd, erupting into cheers and golden confetti like it was a parade, not a death sentence.

Katniss turned, ignored the shouts of her name, couldn’t stand a moment longer the glided cage of cold marble walls and burst into the open. Back in the arena. Sound didn’t reach. She was beyond reach. She was going back. She didn’t stop running.

*

Victors. Only victors.

She didn’t knock. She didn’t have to.

The door creaked open under her hand. Inside smelled like sweat, old liquor, and something sharp beneath — like despair that had sat too long in the corners.

Haymitch was already sitting at the table, one boot off, a bottle in his hand, staring at nothing. Another sat waiting across from him, as if he'd known she'd come.

He didn’t say anything. Just nudged the full bottle toward her with the back of his knuckles.

Katniss sat. Unscrewed the cap. Poured nothing. Just drank.

It hit her like a fire in the throat. She didn’t flinch.

A minute passed. Then another.

They didn’t speak. Just drank in silence. Two victors. Two names already written down.

It was hours later when the door opened again.

Soft steps. Then sharper ones.

“Seriously?” Clove’s voice sliced into the air like a knife. Not yelling — too quiet for that — but cold, clipped, already furious. “You’re both drunk?”

Katniss didn’t lift her head. Her cheek was pressed to the table, eyes half-shut, lips stained with whatever Haymitch had handed her last. She felt warm. Floaty. Far enough from herself to not have to care.

Clove came closer. “You think this helps?” she snapped. Her hand hovered, then dropped to Katniss’ shoulder, firm. “Get up. Come on. Shower. Sleep it off. You need your mind, Katniss.”

Katniss blinked. Smiled vaguely. “To die? It doesn't matter anymore."

“You’ve been here all day.” Clove’s voice, low and deliberate, cut through the stillness like a knife eased through fabric.

Katniss blinked. Her mouth was dry. The bottle swayed, and she pulled it closer into her lap like it was a tether keeping her from floating away.

“We're going in anyway,” she said, quiet and toneless.

Clove came closer. She didn’t crouch, didn’t touch. Just stood near the couch like she hadn’t already spent the last weeks memorizing every broken line in Katniss’ silhouette.

“You should sleep,” she said. “And eat. And drink actual water.”

Katniss laughed — not a real one, the kind that escapes because it has nowhere else to go. “Why? So I can be in peak shape for my public execution?”

Clove’s jaw worked slightly. She didn’t answer.

Katniss tilted her head back against the couch. The ceiling spun. “I’ve got nothing left to give. No illusions. No plan. I’m going to die in that arena, and this time there won’t be a trick to get out of it. Snow made sure of that.”

“Stop,” Clove said softly.

It was barely a whisper, but Katniss heard it. Felt it. And hated how much she wanted to respond.

Instead, she shook her head, eyes still unfocused. “You’re not going in. That’s the one good thing. The one thing he doesn’t get to touch.”

Clove said nothing.

Katniss let the silence stretch. She wanted it to feel final. She wanted it to mean something. Her fingers curled tighter around the bottle.

“You should go,” she murmured. “I want you to get away.”

“Katniss—”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “Please.”

That stopped Clove cold. Not because she was afraid — Clove had never been afraid of her. But because Katniss never begged. Not like this.

“Okay,” Clove said after a moment. She took one small step back. “I’ll be nearby.”

Katniss didn’t look up. Just let her eyes close.

Clove didn’t move for a long time. And then, finally, she left the glass of water on the table. A quiet offering. The door closed behind her. Katniss stayed where she was. Not asleep. Not awake. In silent surrender.

The door creaked again.

Katniss didn’t look up from her place on the floor. Her limbs were heavy with something thicker than drink. It was the kind of exhaustion that settled in your bones when you stopped trying.

“Katniss?”

She knew that voice.

Prim.

It landed in her like an arrow.

Katniss sat up too fast. The world tilted. Her tongue tasted like ash.

Prim stepped inside, slow and certain, a small figure wrapped in quiet resolve. Behind her stood Clove — unreadable as always, but stiff, silent, watching.

““Is this what you’re going to do now?” she asked, soft. “Drink until they take you? Pretend none of this is real?”

Katniss opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

Prim didn’t cry. Her voice just sharpened at the edges, trembled once, then held. “You said you’d try. You said you’d fight for every inch. That’s what you told me last time. Is that gone now?”

Haymitch grunted behind her. “She’s coping,” he muttered.

Prim turned on him. “And you’re enabling.”

He blinked. Then scowled. Then looked away.

Clove didn’t say a word, but she didn’t leave either. She watched Katniss like she was daring her to flinch. Or to fight. Maybe both.

Prim stepped closer. Her voice was steady, not cruel. “If this is how you want to spend our remaining time together, fine. But I thought you’d want to have them.”

Katniss swallowed hard. Her throat burned. Not from the liquor. From the truth of it. “I thought…” she tried. “I thought you’d be safe.”

Prim knelt beside her. “I’m not the one in danger right now.”

Katniss looked up. At Prim. At Clove. At the hollowed-out shell of Haymitch.

She put the bottle down.

Prim gave a tiny nod, then looked to Haymitch. “You said you’d get her through it once. Do it again. Please.”

Haymitch squinted at her. “Who says I can do anything?"

“If you’re giving up already, fine. But don’t drag her down with you,” she said, looking straight at Haymitch. “You’re supposed to help. That’s your job. If you can’t be sober, be useful.”

Haymitch blinked. The glass slipped from his hand and rolled on the floor.

Katniss closed her eyes. Not from exhaustion — but from shame. It curled deep in her ribs.

Prim’s voice softened now, finally. “I want to spend the days we have left with you. Not with… this.” She stepped forward, touched Katniss’ hand — small, warm, grounding. “Come back. Please.”

Katniss opened her eyes. Slowly.

Then nodded, just once.

Clove reached out again, this time without pushing. Just waiting.

Katniss let her help her up.

Haymitch groaned behind them, muttered something about coffee and a damned cold bath.

Prim, for the first time all day, let herself smile.

*

The morning air was sharp with coal dust and the sour smell of Haymitch’s sweat, but the man’s been drinking less. Enough that his hands barely shook when he stretched them over his head, groaning through the motion. His body was bloated and stubborn, but even then he was a stubborn ass, a fighter, cursing all the while.

“I hate mornings,” he groaned, dry heaving afterwards wiping a sleeve across his mouth.

“You hate everything,” Clove shot back lightly, dropping into a crouch. Her dark braid swung over her shoulder, eyes focused and sharp. Katniss could feel it—the way Clove watched her while stretching, a constant tether between them. Present. Solid.

Katniss didn't speak. She was trying. For Prim. For Clove. Even if she rather spent her time in the woods, laying in the meadow. Perhaps not with Haymitch in a bottle again. The dry mouth and hunger she had after that episode together with the guilt, the looks from Prim and Clove had been too much. Sobering up was quick for her and Clove had dragged her out of the mansion with that fierce, silent look that never required words. So no hunting, or meadow.

But training. No weapons. No knives. Just movement and endurance and the kind of strength you carved out of a body with time and grit.

They jogged around the perimeter of the Victor’s Village. Haymitch fell behind fast as always but kept moving, muttering curses, complaining about a stitch in his side. About his old joints. Katniss and Clove paced ahead together, silent at first.

“You think our wedding is getting postponed?” Clove asked, not winded at all.

Katniss huffed. “You'll probably hear my wedding vows when I'm on stage for my last interview.”

Clove’s knuckles brushed hers as they ran. “They better be good then.”

Back inside, they did bodyweight drills in the parlor: push-ups, planks, squats. Haymitch kept complaining, attempting to sneakily drink from a flask, which Clove confiscated and doubled his reps. It shut him up. Katniss watched, head tilted.

There was a flicker of something new in Haymitch’s eyes when he looked at Clove. Respect, maybe. Or the grudging acceptance that he couldn't get away with anything anymore.

Later, drenched in sweat and sprawled on the parlor floor, Katniss laid flat on her back, chest heaving. She turned her head to the side and found Clove doing the same beside her.

“You didn’t have to join us.”

“I did,” Clove rebuked without hesitation. “You think I’m going to let you do this alone?”

Katniss swallowed hard. She didn't say what she was thinking: that she’s the one who will go in, not Clove. That Clove will be safe. That’s the only thread holding her together.

Haymitch shuffled in from the kitchen, carrying three dented cups of water. “You two are gonna get me sober at this rate,” he muttered, handing them out.

Katniss raised her cup. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He grunted. “For me, maybe. For you two? Might just be the difference between living and dying.”

They drank. Sweat cooling. Muscles sore. Breath still ragged.

None of them say it out loud, but it’s there—in the looks, the shared bruises, the quiet weight of commitment

None of them plan on letting each other die.

*

The room was quiet except for the soft rattle of wind in the trees. The moonlight slipped in through the curtains in ribbons, faint and silver against the walls. The blankets were tangled, half-kicked away from the heat of two bodies pressed close.

Katniss laid on her side, arm curled protectively around Clove, who was tucked against her chest, one hand resting over Katniss’ forearm. Clove breathing steadily, but too measured to be asleep. Neither of them have had an easy time sleeping since the Quarter Quell was announced.

Katniss pressed her nose lightly to the back of Clove’s neck, breathing in the familiar warmth of her. They haven’t spoken much about what it all meant. Just stayed close. Hugged tighter, touched even more like proximity might stop the clock.

In the dark, Katniss murmured, “Can I ask you something?”

Clove didn't move, but her fingers tightened slightly over Katniss’ arm. “You never ask.”

Katniss hesitated. The words are thick in her throat. Heavy. Final in a way she doesn’t want to name.

“If it turns out I can’t be here,” she started softly, “look after Prim.”

Clove went still. Too still.

“You know I already would,” she says quietly. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I do,” Katniss insists, voice rough. “Because I need to hear it.”

Clove rolled over slowly, twisting in Katniss’ arms so she can face her. Even in the low light, her eyes were sharp. “I’ve braided her hair. I brought her with you to school and helped with her homework. I have gone hunting with you and helped cooking or at least cutting up everything. What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”

Something lodged in her chest. Knowing she wouldn't witness such moments much longer. She leaned in until their foreheads touch.

“I just needed to know you’d keep doing it,” she offered, barely audible. “If—”

Clove cuts her off with a kiss. It’s not urgent. Just warm. Steady. Final in its own way.

“You don’t get to vanish on me,” Clove murmured. “That’s not the plan.”

“I know.” But they both felt the weight of what’s unsaid.

Clove turned back around, settling into her again, her back pressing snug against Katniss’ front. Katniss curled her arm tighter around her waist and closed her eyes.

She didn’t sleep. But she held on like maybe she could make the moment last.

Because whatever came next, this—this was still hers.

*

The square was quieter than usual. Nothing today was a surprise after all. Haymitch and her had been collected by a squad of Peacekeepers escorting them from the Victors Village right to the square onto the stage. The wind howled through dry grass and fabric loud against the oppressive silence of the people herded as always into rows in front of the stage.

Katniss stood to the right, Haymitch to the left, together with the two bowls, which each held a single slip of paper. For once, she hadn’t worn a dress, hadn’t done anything special for her reaping, was just in her well-worn hunting boots, soft pants and some kind of shirt. Unadorned, unassuming. her.

The sight of Prim encased between Clove and her mother directly in front of the stage gave her enough strength to keep breathing, to not let her expression flicker. Prim had slept in her bed, she had been uncomfortably warm, squeezed in between Clove, Prim and that damned cat. She had wished the hours would have stretched on forever.

They hadn’t spoken in the morning, their goodbye’s wordless, at least her own as her hands lingered on Prim and Prim wouldn’t let go, as Clove remained at her side, nearly fused to her, her nails leaving marks on her. Avoiding eye contact entirely. The hour they would have daunting, a lifeline and a noose in one.

Effie appeared as the mayor finished with his speech, in a gown like frosted glass and trembling gold. Her wig was less absurd than usual. Her eyes spoke volumes as they hushed between Haymitch and her.

“Ladies and gentlemen… as per the Quarter Quell, the male and female tribute from each District will be reaped from the existing pool of Victors. As always Lady’s first. ”

A pause. She swallowed — a tiny, reluctant hiccup of humanity slipping through while she reached for the single slip.

“The female tribute from District Twelve…”

She opened the folded paper.

“Katniss Everdeen.”

The name fell like a knife. No one moved. Not even the Peacekeepers.

Katniss took one breath — deep, steady, practiced — and stepped forward. Her boots echoed in the dry silence. No defiance, no theatrics, just the clean inevitability of it. But then—

A voice rang out.

“I volunteer.” Heads turned. A figure was already ascending the stairs, moving into place next to her. Katniss’ heart stuttered. She knew that voice that sight. Would’ve known it in a crowd, a nightmare, blind, deaf.

Clove.

“You aren’t a Victor of District Twelve.” The mayor spoke up in disbelief unsure.

“The transfer should be on file, I’m an official resident of District Twelve and a victor.”

Effie blinked in confusion. Katniss stared at her. Her mouth didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.

Clove stared straight ahead. The district transfer. They had waited for it. When they had been on the Victory Tour, even before. A hope. A wish of sharing a life together not this.

She just took her place beside Effie, spine stiff, chin up. The Capitol cameras drank her in like blood in snow. Her ears rung while Effie went ahead with the reaping,

“And for the boys, Haymitch Abernathy.”

Katniss’ body responded before her mind did. “I volunteer as tribute."

Effie blinked again, startled. “You… you—”

Gasps rippled like wind through the square. From somewhere behind her, Haymitch shouted a curse, but it was too late.

Her words spoken and finally Clove met her gaze. Expression shocked, then turning into anger and disbelief. But what else had she expected?

Two victors reaped, both of them volunteers, both of them chosen. Both of them staring straight ahead, but Katniss reached for Clove's hand first, intertwined their fingers. Her mother followed by her sister were the first.

The three middle fingers of the left hand extended and held upright, thumb gently tucked across the palm to touch the little finger — a silent gesture, solemn and steady. A last farewell, which the whole District echoed. But in the stillness of the Reaping Square, it meant more.

When dozens of hands rose in unison, three fingers high, it became a quiet act of defiance — a tribute to the dead, a stand against injustice, a collective breath held in shared pain. The gesture required no words. Its silence spoke louder than any anthem, any cry.

Katniss looked out of the corner of her eyes at Clove before she returned the gesture to her District, to her home. Gaze roving over the familiar faces, Madge, Gale, Greasy Sue-

The murmurs rose into shouts. The crowd began to shift, restless. No longer alright with silence and oppression. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Victors weren’t supposed to follow each other into the grave.

Prim tried to push forward. Katniss caught a flash of her face, eyes wide, mouth forming her name. Asterid was with her, held back by Peacekeepers already establishing a wall.

The sound of boots, orders, and the sudden snap of Capitol procedure. Guns raised they were pushed back, the grip on her hand tightened and while they didn’t share a glance they shifted closer together, measuring up the Peacekeepers.

“Escort them to the train.”

“Wait. We didn’t get to say goodbye.” Her plea fell onto deaf ears, and she rose to her full height, attempting to catch her sister's eye.

“Katniss!”

“Prim!” Katniss struggled against the grip of the Peacekeepers until she noted how tight they were grabbing and tearing at Clove, who was struggling with her, with a last glance she shouted goodbye. Then ripped Clove out of their grip acting as barrier as they were marched to the train station.

Two victors, two weapons honed by fire and fear, walking side by side again — not for the Capitol, not even for the cameras.

But for each other.

And behind them, the District murmured and seethed. Something had cracked.

And this time, it would not hold.

*

Katniss adjusted the reins in her gloved hands, the fabric of her ember-lit suit shifting like coals beneath her fingers. The effect was stunning, no doubt — she looked like something elemental, dangerous. Like fire. The black metal crown on her head was heavy, the lights of it danced across her skin like firelight, casting flickering shadows that made her feel more object than girl.

She barely had time to breathe before someone sauntered into her line of sight with the lazy confidence of someone used to being adored.

Finnick Odair.

He was practically naked — a net of shimmering gold strategically knotted low on his hips, skin gleaming like polished bronze. His feet were bare, his smile sharp, and his sea green eyes landed on her with practiced ease.

“Hello, Katniss,” he said smoothly, as if they’d met on more intimate terms.

She offered a stiff hello without taking her eyes off the horse’s mane.

He popped a sugar cube into his mouth, chewing leisurely. “Want one?” he said, offering a pile in his hand. “They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I… well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.”

“No, thanks,” Katniss said flatly. “I'd love to borrow your outfit sometime, though.”

“You're absolutely terrifying in that getup. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?” He reached forward, letting his fingers graze the collar of her suit — the part that flickered most like flame.

“I outgrew them."

“Mmm,” Finnick said appreciatively, lips quirking. “It's too bad about this Quell thing. You could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted.”

"Is that what you deal with?"

"Oh, I haven't uses something like money in years. No real currency is secrets." He closed the distance between them leaned in, lips nearly brushing hers, his tone dropped silk-soft. “Got any worth my time?”

“I don’t trade in secrets,” she said, cool but uncertain.

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Clove’s voice cut in from just behind him, “but I might have a few.”

Finnick turned. His smile curled wider at the sight of her — same ember suit, same coal-black crown — but the effect on Clove was different. She didn’t glow. She burned. Her every movement casting trails of smoldering light. Her black crown tilted just slightly, like she wore it out of defiance, not pageantry. Katniss’ breath hitched before she could stop it. No bare skin in sight, but Clove looked lethal, more striking, than Finnick ever could. But sending her heart racing was the ring, even now sparkling on her finger.

“Clove,” he said slowly, like savoring a bite he wasn’t sure would sting or melt. “District Twelve’s newest inferno. And here I thought I’d already found the fire.”

Clove didn’t blink. “You’re just circling it.”

Katniss stiffened at his shift in attention. He was looking at Clove now the way Capitol cameras looked at Katniss — like they wanted to consume her. She didn’t like it. Not at all.

“I hear you’re dangerous with a blade,” Finnick said, stepping closer to Clove now. “Maybe even faster than me.”

“Probably,” Clove answered, stepping sideways so she was shoulder to shoulder with Katniss again — a quiet claim. “But I don’t show my hand unless there’s something in it for me.”

Finnick raised a brow, intrigued. “Like an ally?”

“Like survival,” she said, voice cool, but her hand grazed Katniss’ arm, deliberate.

Katniss didn’t miss it. Neither did Finnick.

He tossed another sugar cube into his mouth and grinned. “I’ll remember that. And I never forget a flame that bites.”

He sauntered off then, all golden skin and predatory charm.

Clove watched him go without flinching. “Flirts like it’s strategy,” she muttered.

Katniss exhaled, sharp. “Was it?”

Clove turned to her, and for once her voice held no edge. “Wouldn’t waste strategy on someone I’m not trying to win.” Clove’s hand brushed Katniss’ lower back — not possessive, but grounding. Katniss felt the pressure and leaned into it just slightly, her chest tight.

Katniss stared at her, heart pounding beneath the ember-coal glow. And at that moment, it didn’t matter that she didn’t know how to play Finnick’s kind of game.

Because Clove already had. And she’d chosen her side.

The music began, the heavy thumps of the drums almost reverberating through the ground and the doors open as the chariot of District 1 rolled out. Greeted with thunderous roars.

“You look good,” Katniss offered her hand to help Clove into their chariot, her eyes flickering over her ensemble again.

“Only good?” Clove settled comfortably helped her up too, her mouth curved into a smile. “You’re pulling out the big weapons — lucky we match.”

“Only for you. Have you seen Cinna?”

“Not since he finished dressing me and giving me our instructions.”

Katniss swallowed nervously, Portia and Cinna had stayed with Peeta and her until the last second, until the chariot had left the stalls, and now he was nowhere to be found, with their suits not completely turned on. District 9 was already rolling out when she reached for Clove’s suit and turned it on, who did the same for her.

Cinna hadn’t reappeared, and unease curled low in her gut. His association with her was dangerous — had something happened?

Clove grasped her hand. “Straight ahead. They don’t deserve our attention.” Dark eyes looked deadly with the dramatic make-up, at least a year ago she would have believed that, just as she hadn’t trusted the crying boy with bread, who thinking back never managed to look like a killer.

Now she held the hand of someone trained to be a killer at the core, who to the untrained eye was what she seemed and was never more known or safe. She squeezed her hand hidden from sight, knowing the other girl was lost to memories as well, staring at a point ahead. There was no audience, no glitter and flowers thrown at them, no little ally riding the chariot in front of them. Along the route were huge screens showing of the victors in the chariots, Clove and her, faces blank, defiant, burning infernos, dark and powerful. This was them now, the Star Crossed Lovers, robbed of our victory and future, unforgiving to our fans, to the Capitol.

If she couldn’t scream and rage this was the next best thing. Looping the City Circle, unbidden Clove and her shared a look, amused to see how many of the other victors shone and blinked with flashing lights. Obviously attempting to compensate for something. It wasn’t helping. A quick glance around, not only the audience but all the victors were staring at them. Some mesmerized. Some angry. Though District 2, Brutus and Enobaria barely appeared to hold back from leaping out of their chariot and start the bloodshed right here. By Clove’s coiled frame she had noted this as well. Instant enemies Clove was seen as a traitor and Katniss as the reason. They both would be trying to show District 2's superiority. She didn’t listen to Snow welcoming them to the Quell, instead glaring at the man, wishing she could end this with a simple shot of her bow before the anthem played and the horses brought them to the Training Center.

Katniss helped Clove off the chariot when Cinna reappeared, and she had to hold herself back from hugging him, standing closer as necessary as he debriefed them, pleased with their performance before being interrupted by Haymitch who stumbled up to them with Chaff his very public drinking buddy. A male victor from District 11 who had wom over thirty years ago, loosing most of his left arm in the process which he never got a protistic for. Around the same age was Seeder, she could have been a neighbor from the Seam, who hugged her not even waiting for introductions.

“The families?” She whispered, knowing this could only be related back to Rue after the chaos she had left behind in District 11.

“They're alive.” With a squeeze she let Katniss go, before hugging a startled Clove as well.

Chaff stepped forward for a hug as well only to kiss her right on the mouth. Katniss jerked back while Haymitch and he guffawed, disgusted and ready to start swinging when Clove pulled her in by the waist.

“I wouldn’t try that again, or you’ll lose the other arm, too.” Clove sneered, glaring at both Haymitch and Chaff, then the Capitol attendants start to firmly directing them towards the elevators.

Either because they didn't want the victors to mingle, who couldn't care less about their directions, an easy camaraderie between most or because they heard Clove’s threat.

The Capitol clamor still rang in Katniss’ ears. Her dress reeked faintly of smoke and perfume. The fake flame effects had been blown out, but the tension still smoldered underneath her skin.

Clove stood silently beside her in the elevator, her own costume dusted with embers. Black leather and molten thread. Still striking. Still otherworldly. Their fingers were loosely intertwined as they exhaled away from the cameras at last.

Haymitch leaned against the far wall, clearly regretting ever stepping foot into the elevator. He’d unbuttoned his jacket and looked like he was debating between a drink or jumping out the emergency hatch.

Before the doors could close a last figure stepped inside.

Johanna Mason strode in, her own outfit clinging to her like a second skin — all bark and leafy trim and strategic vines.

“Ugh,” she groaned, plucking at her bodice. “I swear if I have to be a damned tree one more time—” She paused, blinking once. Her eyes flicked over Clove and Katniss, assessing, calculating. “Well. Aren’t you two the Capitol’s favorite tragic lovebirds.”

Katniss tensed. Clove’s arms crossed reflexively. Haymitch snorted in the corner but said nothing.

Johanna turned, waving at her back. “Unzip me?”

Katniss blinked. “Seriously?”

“Unless you want me to start tearing it off with my teeth.”

Clove muttered something under her breath, low and sharp.

Johanna just grinned wider. “Easy, tiger.”

Katniss sighed, moved forward like she was helping Buttercup climb a windowsill. Efficient. Detached. Pulled the zipper down in one firm motion, avoiding eye contact with anything but the metal of the elevator. As soon as it gave way, Johanna shrugged the entire thing off. Leaves, bark, everything — pooling at her feet.

She was completely nude except for her slippers.

Haymitch let out a low whistle. “Oh, this’ll be a hit with Caesar.”

Clove didn’t move, but her silence grew glacial.

Johanna glanced at her, corner of her lip twitching. “You know, I thought you’d be louder.”

Clove’s jaw clenched. “Don’t tempt me.”

Johanna's smile sharpened. “I just like to know what I’m up against. You’re the Career, right? With the knives? Thought you’d be taller.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. heavenward. “Can this elevator please move faster?”

Unfazed, Johanna turned to her, gaze sliding slowly up and down Katniss’ form “So. How does it feel? Knowing everyone in the Capitol wants to sleep with you.”

Katniss coughed, stiffening. “Excuse me?”

"So tightly wound, many are interested to see the tension relieved."

Katniss blinked again, hoping she would wake up from this nightmare. “What?”

Clove stepped in closer now, silent, but radiating enough tension to warp steel. Her hands were fists at her sides.

Johanna’s grin widened. “Careful, Career. I’m just teasing. We aren't in the arena, yet.” She winked at Clove, then glanced at Katniss again. “You know, she looks like she might kill me in my sleep, but you, I wouldn't mind you in my bed.”

The elevator dinged. Katniss was already turning back toward the elevator buttons. “Please tell me this is your floor.”

The doors slid open.

“Lucky you.” Johanna stepped out, naked as sin. She turned just before the doors closed, flashing a wink at Katniss. “Nice meeting you both. Let me know if the engagement doesn’t work out.”

The doors slid shut.

Silence.

Haymitch cleared his throat. “Well. That was refreshingly subtle.”

Katniss groaned. “If anyone else undresses in an elevator, I’m climbing through the ceiling.”

“You touched her zipper,” Clove accused.

“She asked for my help.” Katniss turned, exasperated.

“She was naked.”

Clove’s eyes narrowed. “You helped.”

"She was halfway there before I even moved! I didn’t strip her!”

Haymitch raised a finger without looking. “Not taking sides. But that was pretty fast zipper work, sweetheart.”

“Stay out of it,” they both snapped.

Haymitch sighed. “Fine. Just me, a bottle, and the Capitol’s favorite soap opera. Living the dream.”

Clove glared at the elevator panel like she could break it with sheer force of will. Katniss sighed.

“…Next time?” Clove said darkly. “Let her wrestle it off herself.”

“Deal.”

They didn’t touch the rest of the ride up. But when the doors opened, Katniss didn’t miss the way Clove walked a little closer. Or how her hand brushed hers before they stepped out — just for a second.

*

Clove caught Katniss by the wrist as they stepped into their room, not hard enough to hurt, just firm enough to stop her.

“You helped her with the zipper.”

Katniss blinked, still strung tight from the parade, the press of the crowd, Johanna’s hands, Finnick’s voice. “It was stuck.”

“She had hands,” Clove said, low and sharp.

Katniss pulled away, not far. “You’re one to talk. You smiled at Finnick.”

Clove cocked her head a grin on her face. “I was watching our flank. He flirts with everyone, and I wanted to see what he wanted. Why he wanted it.”

“Seemed like he just wanted you.”

“And Johanna wanted you.” Clove stepped in now, close, chin tilted defiantly. “I didn’t unzip anything for him.”

Katniss stepped forward too, their boots almost touching. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t,” Katniss snapped. “I didn’t like Finnick eyeing you like you were next on his list. I didn’t like Johanna getting undressed in front of you. I didn’t like any of it.”

Clove’s breath hitched—just barely—but her smirk returned, sharper now. “Good.”

“You’re impossible,” Katniss muttered.

Clove leaned in until their noses almost brushed. “And you’re jealous.”

“You are too.”

“Obviously.”

And then it snapped — the tension that had been building since the elevator, the parade, the stares neither of them liked. Katniss grabbed Clove by the front of her suit and shoved her back against the wall. Kissed her. Clove arched up against her, meeting her with the same ferocity, kissing her deeply. Her hands disappeared in her hair, pulling her closer and Katniss swallowed her whine in response to her sucking on her lip, nipping it.

Panting. Their foreheads rested together, Clove's eyes were closed and Katniss couldn't resist, cupping her jaw, tracing with the pad of her thumb over her lip. Her whole body buzzing under Clove’s hooded gaze. Clove hooked a leg behind Katniss’ knee and flipped them instead, pushing her onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and fire-lit fabric.

They wrestled half-heartedly — Katniss trying to pin her, Clove twisting free — until their mouths met again. Heated. Katniss cupped Clove’s face like she might still be angry, and Clove tugged her closer like she’d rather burn than pull away.

When they finally parted, Katniss was breathing hard. “Next time you flirt with Finnick—”

Clove arched a brow. “You’ll what?” She asked in between kisses.

“I’ll kiss you in front of him.”

A beat. Then Clove said, smug and breathless, “Good.”

They laid there tangled in silence, the glow of their ember-woven suits still flickering soft orange across the sheets.

Katniss just murmured, “Mine.”

Clove pressed her forehead to Katniss', echoed her. “Mine.”

*

Make some friends.

“I’d still rather just operate with the two of us,” Katniss muttered.

“Not again.” Clove gave her a pointed look and tugged her toward the wrestling station, which, for now, was blissfully empty. “We agreed we need allies this time. Haymitch said the same thing, and he somehow got us out alive the first time.”

Katniss huffed, dragging her feet a little but letting herself be pulled. “We could take them.”

“If they came at us in pairs not as a whole pack. It's far too risky to take our chances alone when they all group up.” Clove pinched her side, earning a wince.

“I’m not allying with the Careers,” Katniss added quickly.

“I didn’t think so. Besides, One and Two are practically salivating for our blood.”

The wrestling station had like every other station a handler posted near, clipboard in hand, giving polite instruction. Clove didn’t even look at him, she walked past like he was invisible, pulling Katniss behind her until they hit the edge of the mat.

"Wrestling? You sure we need any help with that?" Katniss asked dryly, glancing back.

“I'm not sure what you mean, we are simple here to train” Clove murmured, cracking her neck. “Or are you that desperate to have me on top of you again?”

Katniss snorted, even as her face flushed. “That’s a bold assumption. especially because I remember quite clearly how often you end beneath me.”

“Oh really?” Clove grinned, low and razor-sharp. "Perhaps back then when I was hurt but now? Let's see it how it plays out, my wife-to-be?"

Katniss tilted her head, followed her onto the mat. Flexed her fingers and narrowed her eyes.

“Ready to lose?” she said, circling.

“In your dreams,” Clove shot back, already in a low stance.

They moved around each other like magnets with opposing poles—drawn and repelled all at once. Their rhythm was worn in, old as the arena. Katniss darted forward, quick and low, but Clove twisted and hooked a leg behind hers, dragging her down in a controlled tumble.

They hit the mat in a tangle of limbs. Clove had the upper hand—knees tight on either side of Katniss’ hips, strands of hair loose from her braid falling forward into her face. Clove had strength, years of training, though Katniss was quick, unpredictable.

"Say it," Clove breathed.

"That you’re heavy?" Katniss teased, grinning up at her.

Clove growled, then Katniss used the distraction to flip them, hips shifting and core tight. Clove went over with a surprised laugh, ending pinned beneath Katniss.

"Say it," Katniss husked smugly.

Clove grinned like a wolf, all sharp teeth. “You look very comfortable.”

Their spar turned into a blur—push, twist, counter, lock—until neither could tell who started which round. Clove even attempted to bite her, snapping at her exaggeratedly, causing Katniss to startle and laugh, giving her ample time to free herself and flip them again. They were equally stubborn, matched despite their different strengths.

Eventually, Katniss ended up sprawled half on top of Clove, breathless, sharing the same air. Sweat dripped down her brow, strands of hair clinging to her forehead. Their gazes locked, lips inches apart.

Neither of them moved.

Clove reached up slowly, brushing a strand of Katniss’ hair from her face. Her fingertips grazed her cheek, lingered at the jawline.

Katniss’ pulse kicked into overdrive.

“Enjoying yourself?” Clove murmured again, not teasing this time.

Katniss didn’t answer, kissed her instead.

Clove’s hand curled into her shirt, yanking her closer. The kiss was messy, hot, and way too much for the middle of a public training station—but neither of them cared. Their bodies pressed together in a full, instinctive slide of friction and unspoken want. Demanding, deep, unyielding. their tongues slid together while Clove arched up into her-

“Oh please tell me,” a voice drawled behind them. “It's my turn next.”

Katniss tore back as if slapped, panting and shaky. Rolling off Clove, hitting the mat hard in her frightened backwards scramble.

Johanna stood there, glistening with oil and completely naked, one hip cocked, arms crossed only pushing out her bare breasts more. Smirking.

“Don’t let me stop you,” she said sweetly. “As long as I get my turn next, you up for it, Girl on Fire?”

Clove stood in one fluid motion, her entire body tense. She stepped in front of Katniss like a shield and hissed, sharp and venomous.

"Even think about it,” she said, voice low and sharp. “And I'll carve that smirk off your face.”

Johanna’s smirk widened. “Oh, death threats my as if we aren't set to kill each other a few days from now.”

“I won't wait that long.”

Katniss blinked. The pure venom in Clove's words, putting into focus how much the other girl had just toyed with her before their own Games, needled her more for entertainment than to threaten. This was different. Seething and sharp.

Clove didn’t wait for another word. She grabbed Katniss’ wrist and yanked her off the mat.

As they left the mat, Katniss looked back—once. Johanna was still watching, still smirking. But Clove’s grip on her arm was tight and furious.

Wordlessly seeing as the room had filled up they split to cover more ground.

Leaving her conversation with Mags, she was just excited thinking about how she would explain to Haymitch and Clove how she wanted a80-year-old woman, which she hardly understood as an ally. She also wanted Wiress and Beetee, which had no physical might to speak of but at least were smart and the way they had subtly notified her about the uprisings in their District made her want to trust them a little bit.

Casing the room she saw Clove again laughing at something Finnick said, standing too close. Rationally, she knew Clove was probably just being strategic. But rationality didn’t stop the flicker of heat in her gut. How her fingers twitched for a bow and arrow. There was at least that. The archery station.

The handler seeing her skill started to release fake birds, more and more at a time, and she lost herself in the rhythm. In the burn in her arms, in the muscle memory of it.

By the time she’d emptied her third quiver, she was surprised to hear clapping looking up to see Wiress, clap and grin brightly. She had drawn the attention of all the victors in the room, all watching her. Gloss and Cashmere were whispering. Johanna wiggled her brows provocatively when she noted her gaze, while Finnick was studying her next to Mags-

Clove tilted her head, shooting her a smile, giving her a proud nod before giving gesturing to the elevators in time for the bell to chime.

“So at least half the victors have instructed their mentors to request you as an ally,” Haymitch said, arms crossed. “I know it can’t have been because of your sunny personality.”

“I find her particularly charming,” Clove said with a smirk. “As do more of the other victors than I would like.”

Haymitch scoffed. “So charming even Brutus want you? What sweet nothing's did you whisper in his ear?”

“I don’t want him,” Katniss interrupted, glancing at Clove. “I want Mags. And District Three.”

Clove raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Of course you do." Haymitch sighed and reached for a bottle of wine, aiming to leave the room. “I’ll tell everyone you’re still making up your mind.”

“Katniss did say who she wanted,” Clove stepped into his way, staring him down despite the obvious height difference. “You are our mentor, we say who we want to ally with and you handle the formalities. So you go do that.”

Haymitch stared her down, clearly weighing how much trouble she was worth. Then he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine, fine.”

As soon as he left, Clove turned to Katniss. "Can we at least consider Finnick as well? He and Mags are probably a package deal. That’d give us three fighters, and—” She didn’t finish, just gestured vaguely. Three fighters. Three minds.

“You want Finnick?” Katniss asked, voice sharper than she meant.

“Well, if President Snow gave direct orders to make sure we die in the arena, I’m not going to make it easy for them,” Clove said flatly. “Finnick—bluster and all—is loyal to Mags. And if you want her…”

Katniss scowled. She didn’t have to like it. But Clove wasn’t wrong.

“I’ll consider it.”

“Seriously consider it?” Clove asked, amused.

Katniss sighed, deflating. “Ugh. Fine.”

Clove stepped in close, hand cupping Katniss’ face. “Say it like you mean it, Everdeen.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “I’ll seriously consider it.”

*

These victors are angry Katniss. They'll say anything to try and stop the games. I suggest you do the same.

She took a breath, it caught in the tight bodice of the wedding gown Snow had selected for her.

"Oh Katniss." She blinked relieved when it wasn't again her sobbing prep team but Effie leading her to the backstage area, holding onto her arm gently while fanning out her train. "You would've been the most beautiful bride."

"Thank you."

"Let's go show them what real beauty looks like. Katniss everyone's gonna adore you. And there are a lot of sponsors in the audience."

Katniss didn't care for any of them. Though she remembered Haymitch's words, what Clove had wanted of her, and she was still trying to get her out of this. So there was nothing to do but play the game a last time.

Caesar’s voice boomed. “The victor of last year's Hunger Games Katniss Everdeen. You look fabulous, doesn't she?!”

The roar that greeted her was the kind of thing you could drown in. He greeted her with a kiss to the hand, urging her to sit, while Katniss shot a glance at the victors standing on the platform behind the stage in view of the audience, having to stand there after their interviews and back to the shouting audience.

"Now Katniss. This is a very big and very emotional night. For all of us. Wouldn't you say?"

Katniss forced a smile, banished the flatness out of her voice, searching the crowd for Cinna to ground herself once more. "Don't go crying on me now Caesar."

"I can't make any promises you know me."

"You know I wouldn't believe you even if you did." That earned her a round of laughter.

"On a more serious note. I think we're all here a little disappointed, more than a little disappointed that a certain wedding did not take place. Aren't we folks?"

"Well actually we got married. Privately back in my District." She offered nonchalant, steady. She had given Clove a promise, a ceremony was hardly necessary, and she was far too practical for a toasting. Even then Clove had wanted her to mention this. One last dig against the Capitol, perhaps. What they had had never belonged to them anyway.

"A secret wedding? Alright do tell?"

"The moment the Quell was announced we got married. Neither Clove and I wanted to waste another moment. We are forever now and for whatever comes next.” Coos and awes followed her declaration, some people in the audience helplessly sobbing and Katniss had to clench her teeth, hide her hands in the fabric of her gown.

"That's very beautiful. But am I correct and assuming that this is the gown that you would have worn for the official wedding yes or no?"

"Yes. President Snow thought everyone would want to see it."

"Well, President Snow as usual was right. Would you do us the honor, please, please, please give us a twirl?" She hesitated, searched for Cinna in the audience who gave her a nod.

She gave a twirl, didn't stop when her dress caught fire. White turning to black. Her dress changing.

"Oh my god. What is it. It's like a, like a bird, like a-" She had wings of midnight blue.

"A Mockingjay." She spread her arms, wings flared, and the audience roared, cheering and gasping. Her heart thundered. Helplessly looking at Cinna.

"Your stylist has certainly outdone himself this time. Cinna take a bow." Cinna rose out of the crowd, waving, bowing, yet his face was solemn. With a wave to the crowd her allotted time was up and the joined the other victors on the platform, coming to stand next to Chaff.

Her mind was on Cinna. Snow wouldn't just let this pass. She missed Clove's entrance only checking back in when she heard her voice.

"She cleans up better."

“Well, well I don't know about that, the both of you are a lethal combo for the heart, aren't they?” Caesar said, regaining his charm. “You must feel very lucky having tied the knot.”

Clove nodded and Katniss saw her own wedding dress for the first time. Also, white but glittering with seemingly a thousand gemstones, which were also braided into her hair. “Didn’t want to take any chances. We knew what this meant. The Quell. The arena. We've been luckier than most though I needed her to be my wife, to take this last step.”

Caesar leaned in. “That’s love, folks.”

Clove’s expression softened—just a little. “When you know, you know. We wouldn't have any regrets at all, if it weren't for-” Her voice broke and Katniss had to stop herself from going back down there. Unsure.

“If it weren't for what?” Caesar inquired carefully.

Clove inhaled slowly, as if considering. Then, in a voice just shy of trembling: “I grew up alone. No siblings. Only my father. But then I met Katniss. And I saw how she was with Prim. I thought… I want that. I wanted to give her that.”

The audience leaned in.

Clove hesitated a beat. Then she delivered it, clean and sure.

“We’d already started planning for that life. Family. A home. Because when you’re promised peace after the Games, you start imagining forever.”

Caesar blinked. “Are you saying—?”

“I’m saying we didn’t plan on coming back here,” Clove said, voice breaking enough to be believable. “We were planning for something else entirely, for someone, I knew she'd make the best mother-” She choked, hiding her face in her hand while the other came to rest protectively over her belly.

It was all she needed to say. The crowd gasped, then murmured, then erupted. Not in applause—this was something different. Raw. Chaotic. Voices overlapping. A storm. The whole evening the victors had together constructed a bomb, pleaded, screamed, argued rationally in the end Clove's words set off the fuse.

"Alright. This is news. Let's find out more. Calm down this is news to all of us." Caesar attempted to control the crowd, but the masses wouldn't be contained. Sreaming, shouting, Katniss could make out the calls to stop the Games. Caesar murmured something into Clove's ear who nodded before she climbed up the pedestal to join her.

Katniss didn't wait to embrace her, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. Then with a glance at her fellow victors she took Chaff's stump, heart hammering when she watched as every single victor took each other's hands and as one they lifted their joined hands.

The crowd roared, clamored, in Caesar's eyes as he saw the spectacle she noted the panic and fear.

Suddenly the entire room went black accompanied by a symphony of panicked screams.

*

“Unfortunately the games are still on. Though the masses are not happy about it, both of you great work," Haymitch stalked into the room, still in his suit. "So this goodbye for now."

"I'm so proud of my victors." Effie cupped her cheeks, placing a kiss against her forehead, then hugged Clove. "So proud. I am so … sorry, you both deserved so much better."

"Thank you, Effie." Katniss squeezed her hand, meaning it truly.

"I am truly sorry." Effie blinked away tears then quickly darted out of the room.

"Thank you, Haymitch." Clove offered him, then turned to Katniss as she noted her lingering. "I'll wait for you in our room."

Katniss nodded, relieved she didn't have to find a way to get Haymitch alone to send coded messages in their short time left together under Clove's watch. "Remember, you'll help her in the arena like you helped me. Remember our deal. Do whatever it takes to keep her alive. We both know even if I managed Snow wouldn't let me live again. I need them all safe." Prim, her mother, Clove. Snow's ire was hopefully entirely focused on her.

Haymitch averted his gaze. "Promise me."

"Okay." He sighed heavily before opening his arms and Katniss hugged him tightly. "Just, Katniss when you're in the arena, remember who the real enemy is." He patted her head awkwardly while Katniss parsed his words before making her way to her room.

Finding the hologram set to the mountain range, bathing the room in cool blue light, Clove already curled up in bed, eyes watching the door. Katniss toed off her shoes and was quick to join her. Curling up behind her, pulling her closer with an arm around her waist. Nuzzling into her hair, unsurprised to find it smelling like roses and some fruity perfume thanks to their prep team. Clove lifted her head, using her biceps as a pillow and pulled the blankets around them both. The interviews wouldn't leave her mind, and involuntarily she found her hand skirting beneath Clove's shirt, cupping her abdomen, thumbing the softness which hid tight muscle beneath. Fingers intertwined with hers, remaining there.

"Was it too much?"

Katniss swallowed. The thought alone, of a life quickening inside of Clove-

It made her nauseous. Wasn't this her biggest fear? Having children only for them to be reaped? The horror which had immobilized her when they had called out Prim's name and the only luck that she had been able to do something-

Prim. What kept her going. Her heart having escaped her own chest only to run around far too vulnerable-

"No." She murmured. If they lived another life-

A child with those dark eyes putting the night sky to shame, far too tiny and growing up far too sharp tongued and bold-

But they didn't. Tomorrow they were going back into the arena. While it was her death sentence she would not let it be Clove's. This might even help.

"I wouldn't want them with anyone else."

*

This was no place for the Girl on Fire.

Katniss stood frozen on her platform, heart hammering. The jungle beyond shimmered in the heat, dense and waiting. But it was the sea that caged her — water everywhere. A perfect ring of platforms surrounded the central island where the Cornucopia sat, sun-bleached and metallic, blades glinting.

The countdown was still ticking. She blinked.

Forty-seven... forty-six... forty-five…

No sign of Clove.

Panic flared in her chest. She swept her gaze across the ring — victors perched like game pieces, too still, too quiet. Where was she?

twenty.... nineteen... eighteen....

But even as fear for Clove curled like smoke in her lungs, something else rose to the surface.

Cinna. Blood. Fists. The glass doors sealing. His eyes never leaving hers.

She shoved it down, buried it. Not now. Not here. Survive.

The timer hit zero. The buzzer rang out.

Katniss dove.

Water surged around her, cold and deep. She sliced through it with the strength of desperation, reaching the island in a few sharp strokes, clawing up onto wet sand. Sand gave way to the Cornucopia’s curved metal.

She moved fast — faster than thought.

A bow. Arrows. Her fingers trembled as they latched onto sheets of quivers. A belt lined with throwing knives — she grabbed that too. Then—daggers. Two perfectly weighted ones. Machetes.

For Clove.

She spun around at the sound of movement—bow half-raised, breath caught.

“Whoa,” came a voice. “Good thing we’re allies?”

Finnick stood, calm as ever, trident in hand. His arm was raised—not in threat, but to show something glinting in the sunlight.

A bracelet. Gold. Identical to the one Effie had given Haymitch.

Katniss narrowed her eyes. “Where did you get that?”

Finnick’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Where do you think?”

Before she could process that, he barked, “Duck!”

She dropped instantly.

The trident left his hand with a whirring whistle — and struck a tribute creeping up behind her. A cannon boomed a moment later.

Katniss rose slowly, eyes flicking to the corpse behind them.

“I saw Mags,” Finnick said next, scanning the beach. “But no sign of—”

“Clove,” Katniss cut in, urgency spiking again. “Where is she?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t—wait.”

Mags was gesturing wildly from another part of the island, eyes locked on something in the water.

They ran.

Katniss reached the edge first, scanning the waves—and froze.

Two figures wrestled in the water. Clove was one of them.

Her arms were striking weakly, wild and off-rhythm.

She was sinking. Not fighting. Katniss realized why in a flash of horror.

“She can’t swim!” She moved to leap—

“Cover me!” Finnick shouted, tossing his trident aside and diving into the water in one clean motion.

Katniss dropped to one knee, notching an arrow instantly, heart racing as the water churned.

A second cannon.

No breath. No bubbles.

Then—movement.

Finnick broke the surface first, sputtering and dragging Clove with him. She clung to him like a lifeline, eyes wild, mouth coughing up water. Her hands were latched on his arm with bruising force.

Katniss didn’t wait.

She ran forward, helping haul Clove ashore the second they were close enough, slipping her arm under Clove’s and hoisting her up without a word. Her knees nearly buckled at the contact, but she didn’t stop.

Clove was shaking. Wet. Alive.

Alive.

Mags joined them as Finnick grabbed his trident again.

“No time,” he said. “We need to move.”

Katniss nodded, throwing Clove’s arm over her shoulder, half-carrying her as they sprinted away from the Cornucopia and into the jungle.

The bloodbath faded behind them. Twelve cannons had fired by the time the sea disappeared from view.

But Katniss couldn't care about the others, holding Clove to her side, hurrying after Finnick.

*

The jungle was heavy with heat and silence, too green, too still. Mags kept close to Finnick, one hand gripping the edge of his belt, her breath rasping slightly. Clove moved ahead, machete drawn, cutting through vines with the careful ease of someone raised on survival.

Katniss kept her bow ready. Her eyes strayed from Clove’s back, flitting over their surroundings, noting the weird shimmer-

“Wait, Clove, don’t—!”

But Clove’s arm was already mid-swing.

The blade hit something invisible—and rebounded violently. A blue shimmer cracked the air. A snap echoed like lightning striking glass. Clove was launched backward, her body arching through the air.

She hit the ground hard. Limbs limp. Eyes wide and unblinking.

Everything else went silent.

Katniss was on her knees before she even realized she’d dropped her bow. “Clove?” Her hands hovered over her chest, her face, anything. “Clove!”

She reached for her—but Finnick caught her by the shoulders, dragging her back.

“Get off me!” Katniss shrieked, elbowing him. “Don’t touch me! I swear to—I’ll kill you—!”

“She’s not breathing!” Finnick snapped, already dropping to Clove’s side.

And then he leaned down, his mouth over Clove’s. Kissing her? No, he was trying to reanimate her. Her chest barely moved under his hands as he began compressions. Air. Pressure. More air.

Katniss was trembling. It had been too long. It couldn't end like this. Shaking. Clove was supposed to go home. Another breath. Live. She had failed. Another push.

Clove gasped.

Her body arched off the ground with a sick, broken sound. Air clawed its way back into her lungs. She groaned, whimpering faintly. “Katniss…”

That was all it took.

Katniss shoved past Finnick, barely aware of him anymore. She dropped to her knees beside Clove and gathered her into her arms. The machete fell from Clove’s hand. Katniss didn’t care.

Clove was breathing. Alive.

Katniss cradled her, one arm under her shoulders, the other stroking her damp hair back from her pale face. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Clove mumbled something, eyes fluttering. Katniss pressed her forehead to hers.

Behind them, Finnick stood slowly, watching. Katniss looked up—a hard, unreadable look—then gave a short nod.

“…Thank you,” she murmured hoarsely.

Then she looked back down, arms still tight around Clove as she gently rocked her, her own breathing shallow, like she still hadn’t come down from the cliff’s edge.

"You can name your child in thanks after me." Finnick offered with a lifted brow, looking cowed when Mags pinched his side.

Katniss didn't care for any of it. Clove was in her arms, alive, breathing, and she wouldn't let go. Nothing else mattered.

*

Something was wrong with the air.

Katniss had taken first watch, Finnick had volunteered too quickly for it. Clove had used her lap as a pillow to fall asleep, afterwards Katniss had slipped out beneath her, stuffing one of their packs beneath her head, to remain mobile. Check the perimeter. So she sat up sharply, trusting her instincts. The heat was oppressive, the mugginess. But the stillness was unnatural, thick with a humming pressure that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Then she saw it—creeping between the trees like spilled light, a glowing fog of pale blue under the moonlight. It was coming fast.

She reached out on instinct—her fingertips barely brushed the fog before her body seized in pure, blinding pain.

A scream tore from her throat.

“Get up! Everyone—now!” she rasped, stumbling back as her arm trembled uselessly. The pain was burning from the inside, boiling beneath the skin, searing up her nerves. Clove jolted awake closest to her, knife in hand, before seeing the mist.

“What the hell is that?”

“Poison. We have to move—now!”

Clove was on her feet without hesitation, dragging Katniss up with her. Behind them, Finnick eyes wide with instinctive horror was rousing Mags, urging her onto his back. The fog moved faster than any natural mist should—it pulsed, alive and hunting.

Katniss barely managed to pull Clove by the wrist before they were sprinting—Mags and Finnick behind them. Jumping over tree rotes, bursting through foliage. The pain in Katniss' arm grew worse, the boils already bubbling across her forearm where the fog had kissed her.

They broke through the underbrush, breath heaving, branches clawing at their legs. But the fog followed.

A shout behind them.

Katniss spun, heart in her throat—Finnick was down on his knees, writhing, spasming as the poison reached up his legs. Mags curled over him, wheezing, barely able to keep upright.

“I’ve got him!” Clove yelled as they simultaneously rushed back, sliding her arm under Finnick’s. She gritted her teeth, dragged him up despite his weight. Katniss should’ve gone to help—but Mags—Mags couldn’t run.

She looped Mags’s tiny, wiry frame onto her back like a child. The old woman’s arm slung around her neck, barely clutching. Katniss felt the burn flare across her lower back. The fog had caught her again.

“Go, Clove! Go!”

Clove had Finnick’s arm over her shoulder, dragging him step by agonizing step. He could barely walk—the fog must be attacking the nerves, locking the muscles. Seizing control of his body. His jaw trembled. His eyes pleaded.

“Katniss—!” Clove cried, stumbling.

Katniss saw it: the fog had curved ahead, cutting them off. Mags whimpered on her back. Finnick groaned something unintelligible. Clove was barely holding him up. Then—

Mags slid down Katniss’ back, patted her cheek then closed the distance to brush back the hair out of Finnick's eyes, kissing him on the lips. “No, no, no, Mags—!”

Too late. Mags turned and walked, quiet and steady, straight into the fog.

Finnick screamed, raw and feral, as his mentor disappeared. His legs buckled.

“We have to move!” Katniss shouted, tears cutting hot trails down her cheeks. Clove grabbed Finnick’s other arm. They dragged him between them, every movement a knife to the nerves.

Boils blistered up Katniss’ shoulder. Clove stumbled with a choked sob—her hands were blistering where she held Finnick. They could no longer feel their feet, their legs numb and shaking.

Then—the slope.

“Let go—throw yourself!” Katniss shouted.

With her last strength, she shoved Clove forward—pushing her out of the fog’s grasp—before the fog licked up her own knees. She and Finnick tumbled together, hitting the ground hard. She couldn’t even scream. Her throat was frozen. Her fingers curled and locked.

The fog, a hungry wave, hovered above them, ready to swallow them whole—then hit the force field, sparking slightly, like static against glass. Katniss closed her eyes. Shaking, muscles twitching. Only opening them when she heard Clove somewhere behind her hiss and whimper in pain, sob. Katniss rolled onto her stomach somehow. Barely made her out a few steps away in some shallow water.

"Water helps." Clove groaned. Reappeared next to Katniss on all fours, soaked to the bones. Trembling all over.

“Come on, you have to move—you have to,” Clove whispered hoarsely, half-lifting, half-dragging her into the water. Katniss convulsed as the boils hissed when they met the water. Saltwater like everything in the arena. Salt in the open wounds. Touching the boils. She bit back a scream. Clove helped covered her everywhere with water, despite her own aches, her shaking.

Finnick was worst off—muttering, twitching, his body no longer responding. He was heavy, and they probably put him into the water far too quickly, but they had no other choice more or less stumbling under his weight with him into it. He screamed. Whimpering as they rubbed away boils that wouldn't just leave.

“Stay with us, Finnick,” Katniss whispered, over and over.

It took forever. Or maybe only minutes. But finally, the spasms began to ease. The nerve toxin broke down in the water, the chemicals rinsed off, the skin slowly stopped blistering.

All three of them collapsed into a circle, soaked, shaking, skin raw, eyes glassy.

The jungle was silent.

Then a soft rustle.

Above them, a silver parachute floated down through the canopy, drifting like a feather despite carrying a massive pot. It landed in Katniss’ lap. Twelve

Inside: Ham hock soup. Finnick froze at the sight, swallowing tightly. Katniss clenched her hands. This was for Mags. She divided up the soup giving Finnick the most of it which he noted with a sardonic grin, switching his potion with Clove's.

"Shouldn't let the pregnant little lady go hungry. We probably won't like her mood swings."

Clove just sighed, mumbled a tired, shut up toward him though ate it without any hesitation. At least someone was keeping up with that ruse Katniss had forgotten about it the moment the countdown had hit zero. But if they kept the pregnancy up, Haymitch had said the masses in the Capitol were unhappy about it, Snow would have to let Clove go home if she won. So when her head came to rest against Katniss' shoulder she wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into her side, resting a hand over her belly. Mindlessly stroking circles into it.

"Don't do that again." Clove muttered, sleepily yet stern.

Clove was her priority. If she could get her out here she would. Though she didn't want to argue so she simply didn't speak, just continued her ministrations. Didn't say anything when Finnick joined them against the tree, their sides touching, allowing it.

They were still alive.

But the fog had taken something with it.

*

They moved the moment the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees. All the way in the direction of the beach, unsure what else the Gamemakers had hidden in the jungle. Coming to a stop, Clove used the spile to tap for water, refilling their canteens while Finnick and Katniss guarded her. Using the butt of her combat knife to knock it deep into the trees, Clove crouched over it and waiting until water trickled out into their canteens.

Katniss stood at the edge of the clearing,farthest away with her long range weapon, scanning the trees while Finnick paced between them both, twirling his trident restlessly.

A whisper of leaves. The snap of a twig. Katniss whirled around.

Dozens of yellow eyes blinked open between the branches—unblinking, glassy, unnatural. One was half the size of an adult human. Orange fur. They jumped from one tree to another, unnaturally far, claws coming out like switchblades. There were scores of them. Not attacking.

“Clove,” Katniss said, too quiet.

Clove didn’t turn around. “I see them.”

They circled, slow and deliberate. Not chaotic like real monkeys. Tactical. Predatory.

Clove rose, turning with the spiral still in one hand, her other drawing one of the larger knives from her belt in a fluid motion.

“I hate mutts,” she muttered.

Finnick took point beside Katniss. “Don’t shoot unless they move. They’re waiting.”

The monkeys hissed in unison, showing off her sharp teeth, backs arching, claws flashing against the light. Clove hung the canteen on her belt in a slow steady movement and drew her second knife, holding both knives in a reverse-grip—shoulders squared, ready to close distance.

Katniss’ didn't know who to aim at first.

Then the first mutt lunged.

Finnick speared it midair with a crack of bone and wet fur. That was the signal. The rest erupted from the trees with shrieks of fury. Katniss loosened arrow after arrow, but for every one she dropped, two more came.

Clove was brutal—fluid and sharp, cutting with cold precision. She met the mutts face-to-face, slashing across snarling jaws, ducking claws, one blade striking while the other guarded.

But they were outnumbered.

Katniss turned just as one landed behind her. Too close. She fired—missed. It was on her in seconds, claws raking across her shoulder, teeth aiming for her throat.

She grappled it with both arms, falling back onto the ground as it screeched and tore at her. Her bow was pinned, useless. She scrambled with her legs for purchase, breath hitching-

Clove slammed into the mutt from the side, knives buried deep into its ribs, twisting. It spasmed and went limp.

“Are you alright?” Clove asked, already offering a hand down.

Katniss grasped it. “I—yeah—”

That hesitation cost them.

As Clove hauled Katniss to her feet, another mutt dropped from above—silent and fast—and lunged at Clove’s unguarded back.

“Clo—!”

Too late.

But then—

A blur.

The mutt never reached her.

The female morphling from District 6, streaked in mud and moss, burst from her camouflaged hiding place. She threw herself between them, arms wide, her fragile body catching the mutt midair. They crashed together to the ground in a heap.

“No—” Katniss screamed.

Clove turned just in time to see the morphling convulsing beneath the twitching mutt, her face already pale, chest punctured and bleeding out. The monkey mutt tried to rise—Clove silenced it with a swift stab.

The others were falling back. Too many dead. Too much resistance.

Katniss, Clove, and Finnick didn’t wait for round two.

They ran—together—Clove half-carrying the morphling’s limp form, Finnick covering them from behind until they broke through the treeline and collapsed onto the hot sand of the beach.

Safe.

For now.

The morphling was barely breathing.

Clove held her gently, kneeling in the surf as the waves washed blood from the woman’s arms.

“Hey,” she whispered. “You’re okay. You’re alright.”

The morphling blinked up at her, eyes unfocused—but soft. She reached out with trembling fingers and touched Clove’s cheek, smearing a streak of red across her jaw.

Then she smiled. The cannon fired.

Clove froze, still holding her. No sound except the ocean.

Katniss sank beside her, staring. “She… she was camouflaged. Hidden. She could’ve waited.”

“She didn’t even know me,” Clove said numbly then carefully closed the morphling’s eyes.

Finnick exhaled, lowering his trident, remained silent.

Clove hesitated before gently laying down in the sand. Brushing the hair out of her face before she looked up at Katniss who pulled her into an embrace. Leading her away enough for the hovercraft to appear. Sitting down heavily on the sand, Clove in between her legs, head tilted back to rest against her shoulder. Her back molded to her front. Hands intertwined atop Clove's middle.

They sat in silence for a long time. Neither knowing what to say.

*

The sun had just started dipping into the ocean, casting long orange streaks across the sand, when they heard it.

Screaming.

It wasn’t echoey like the gongs, or all-consuming like the cannon. Just human. Close.

Finnick was already moving before either of them spoke. Katniss exchanged a glance with Clove, knives already drawn, before breaking into a run behind him, their feet pounding across the sand.

Three figures burst out of the jungle stumbling onto the beach. Staggering. Drenched. Blood-slicked. One limping, one half-dragged, the third practically carrying them both while cursing loudly.

Finnick froze. “Johanna!”

"Finnick!" Relief for a moment was notable and Finnick and Johanna hugged before she shoved him back, gesticulating wildly with her axe as he asked what happened.

“Don’t start,” Johanna snapped. Her eyes were wild, her hair slicked back with blood. Shrugging off Beetee, letting him hit the sand with a thud while Wiress followed her like a duckling.

Katniss could have believed Johanna had bathed in the spilled blood of her enemies but both Beetee and Wiress were also covered completely.

Clove instinctively stepped back. “That’s not their blood.”

Johanna was panting, hunched over. “It was rain,” she bit out. “We thought it was water.”

Katniss stared at her, heart pounding.

“Finally water after nearly dying of thirst but of course not,” Johanna continued, tossing her axe into the sand. “Blood everywhere. It smelled like pennies and rot. Blinding us, choking us. Blight didn't make it. Another trap. He wasn't much, but he was from home."

Wiress muttered something, her eyes flicking toward the treetops.

Katniss’ skin prickled.

Clove shifted beside her, tensing. She didn’t trust Johanna—her wildness, her sudden arrival, her blood-caked fists.

Wiress spoke again, louder.

“Tick, tock.”

Johanna whipped around. “Shut up.”

Wiress turned, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the sky. “Tick, tock. Tick, tock…”

“Yeah tick tock, just stay down!” Johanna lunged and shoved her, hard.

Wiress hit the sand with a thud, eyes blinking wildly.

Katniss got in between them, pushed Johanna back. “Hey! Lay off her”

"What? Fuck you." Johanna pushed back. She pointed a shaking shaking hand at Wiress and Beetee. ‘I got them out. I saved them. I carried them. For you. And this is what I get?" Johanna still held her axe, the other hand reaching for Katniss, didn’t expect Clove to kick her in the back of the knee.

Clove’s knife met Johanna’s axe with a resounding clash. Katniss raised her bow instinctively. Finnick shoved himself between them, catching Clove around the waist and setting her aside with care — but his voice was steel.

"Enough!" His trident was lowered, but his form was tense. "You better not exert yourself in your condition," he patted Clove's abdomen for emphasis, deadpan. "We are all allies here."

"Hands off." Perhaps Katniss still wanted to kill him, she slapped his hand away, coming to stand next to Clove, at her out of the corner of her eye to ensure she was alright.

Besides feelings as murderous as she did.

"I don't think so!" Clove hissed, fingers tightening around her knife.

"I don't care if you're knocked up, go ahead try it, I'll rip your throat out!"

Before it could escalate Finnick threw Johanna over her shoulder, "You wanted Nuts and Volts right? Here they are." Then uncaring as she rained abuse with her fists on him, having let go of her axe. He stepped into the surf and just dunked her in a version of helping her get the blood off or the anger out because her cursing got louder, and she didn't stop hitting Finnick.

Katniss stood frozen, her heart in her throat, trying to process what she'd just heard.

Clove took a moment to relax before sheathing her knives. "I don't like this. What the hell is Haymitch doing, what is going on?"

Katniss shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. But you wanted Finnick.”

"So what? You wanted Johanna?"

Katniss turned to her in disbelief. "I know this might be the hormones, but you do realise that Johanna and I nearly came to blows before you stepped in?"

“I’m not hormonal!” Clove snapped. Katniss only grinned—until Clove gave her a harder-than-necessary backhand to the gut.

Sputtering they refocused when Beetee groaned in the sand heavily while Wiress still muttering tick tock, painted shapes into the sand. Sitting hunched, rocking, hair clotted and matted.

Katniss crouched beside Beetee, helping him up, looking at the injury on his back. A gash, luckily not deep and hauling back some moss she fastened it around the wound before zipping the jumpsuit back shut. Then while Clove supported him to the water she turned to Wiress.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “You’re okay.”

Wiress blinked at her with big, faraway eyes. Repeating her tick tock. Almost even more panicked. So Katniss attempted a different approach. “Yes. Tick tock. C’mon, we’ll get you cleaned up.”

Katniss gently guided Wiress to the ocean, kneeling in the shallows with her as she helped wash the thick blood from her scalp, her cheeks, her fingertips. The ocean turned pink around them.

Wiress’s voice wavered. “Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.”

Katniss stilled. The weird gong sounds.

The arena in twelve parts. The poison fog. The mutts. The lightning tree. The rain of blood.

Her eyes widened.

She turned toward Clove, toward Beetee washing off the blood next to them.

“It’s a clock,” she whispered. “The arena—it’s a clock.”

*

The beach had grown quieter since the blood rain. The clock, they knew now, marked zones for each hour. Every hour another horror.

“Each wedge,” she murmured, tracing a line in the sand as they approached the Cornucopia, “One hour. Twelve wedges. Twelve horrors.”

Wiress had begun humming again—soft, melodic, and just loud enough to fill the empty spaces between words and tension. Now that she had been finally understood about the arena, her tick tocks emerged more sparingly, switching her tone. This time a song about a mouse and a clock which Johanna complained about. Beetee was scavenged all the need for his trap beside the wire coil. His plan solidifying. The beach would become the trap.

They would link Beetee’s wire from the lightning tree to the water, where, once the alliance left, the Careers would surely settle as it seemed safe from any hazards so far. The soaked sand would do the rest.

Katniss was reminded how Beetee had once won his Games.

The rest of them stood around a crude drawing of the arena attempting to figure out which horror awaited them when.

Clove muttered, “This might actually work.”

Katniss almost agreed.

Until Wiress’s humming stopped.

The silence struck like a cut.

Katniss turned—and saw Wiress kneeling by the water’s edge, mouth parted, blood blooming across her throat.

Gloss stood behind her, a mountain of muscle, blade slick with her blood.

Katniss didn’t hesitate. Her arrow pierced his temple, and he crumpled.

Gloss’s eyes went wide—then he crumpled forward into the surf. The cannon sounded. She heard a scream. There was Cashmere, never far from her brother and with her the water exploded. The Careers surged out, surfacing like predators—Cashmere, Enobaria, Brutus—weapons drawn, water dripping off bronze-painted skin. Johanna closest to her threw her ax, burying it into Cashmere's chest. Three cannon shots fired.

Enobaria snarled, her teeth bared like fangs, charging straight for Clove. Brutus lunged for Beetee. Intercepted by Finnick. Katniss loosened another arrow, grazing Enobaria, who had evaded the deadly slashes of Clove. Seeing the tide turning she was the first to run, disappearing behind the Cornucopia.

Brutus following, Finnick’s trident piercing the Cornucopia a moment too late where his head had been. Finnick and Clove gave chase, Johanna and her behind them-

And then—the world lurched.

The entire Cornucopia island began to spin.

“What the hell—?” Clove lost her footing—nearly tumbled into the sea—until Finnick’s arm caught her around the waist.

“Hold on!” Johanna shouted, driving her axe into the ground for leverage.

Katniss scrambled, hands scraping against the wet, jagged rock, trying to find a grip—but the spinning increased, faster and faster, a nauseating carousel of water, blood, and light. She heard Clove shouting her name—Finnick cursing-

The wind ripped her scream away as she slammed against the side, one hand still holding the jagged rim, her body dangling over the water churning below.

“Katniss!” Clove’s voice tore through the noise.

Katniss tried to pull herself up. She couldn’t. Her muscles burned — still raw from the fog, from the weight of everything. The force of the rotation twisted her shoulder in its socket.

Then—

A hand snagged her wrist.

“Don’t even think about it,” Johanna growled, one boot planted against the spinning steel, her other arm wedged in with her axe buried to the hilt to anchor them both.

Johanna’s axe buried in the rock kept them anchored—Johanna held on — teeth gritted, soaked to the bone, her arm trembling — until her grip began to slip.

Katniss’ nails scraped across the Cornucopia. Her other hand was slipping.

“Johanna!”

Johanna roared with effort, trying to anchor her axe tighter—but her fingers finally slipped.

Katniss fell. The water hit her like stone-cold, brutal. It sucked her under, the current dragging at her limbs as if the arena itself had grown hands. Her lungs burned. She kicked. Clawed. The spinning above sent down a spiral pull, a whirlpool she couldn’t escape. Just as the blackness crept in—The spinning stopped. The current stilled.

And something gripped her wrist—Hard. Johanna. She broke the surface coughing, hacking seawater as Johanna dragged her toward shore, both of them trembling.

“Don’t you dare die now,” Johanna snapped, knocking her on the back to help dislodge water. “I didn't risk my life for nothing, brainless.”

Katniss collapsed, face pressed to the sand, shivering. Blinking water from her eyes she saw Clove rush over, falling to her knees in front of her. “You okay?” she asked, voice strained. “Katniss!” Hands skimming over her soaked arms, her hair, her ribs. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Katniss leaned into her touch, still gasping.

Finnick dropped beside them, chest heaving. “That was too close.”

Johanna panted lazily tossing her axe from one hand to the other. “That’s it. I’m voting we all die together next time. Would you like that? Not much of a show then, when we all just croak at the same time?" She shouted up in the sky.

No one laughed.

Katniss reached for Clove’s hand, squeezing it. “I’m okay.”

Clove nodded, but her jaw was tight.

Finnick helped Beetee sit upright, face pale. “They’re gone,” he muttered. “Fled. Or regrouping. We should get off the island before the Gamemakers have any other ideas.”

But Wiress’s body was still floating—mouth open, eyes wide, humming silenced. When they left the hovercraft appeared, taking her away.

No one spoke.

*

The sea was gentler than the blood-rain, the jabberjays, the fog. Than the spinning.

Beetee sat alone now, hunched near the treeline, the wire in his hands looping like a living thing. He sometimes muttered—math, maybe. Timing. Plans. Or simply trying to keep his mind off Wiress.

In the surf, Finnick stood with Johanna, their backs to the rest, waves licking at their knees. Finnick stabbed at the water with his trident, spearing fish and throwing them to the shore. Johanna leaned in close when she spoke, expression tight, unreadable.

Katniss watched them from the shore, legs pulled to her chest. Clove copied her, but her head rested against Katniss' shoulder, gaze roaming now and then over their surroundings.

“I don’t like this,” Clove said finally, her voice barely audible over the tide. “The way they look at us. They’re planning something.”

“They’re hiding something. The morphling. Johanna showing up with Beetee and Wiress saying she brought them for us-”

“Yeah,” Clove said, sharp. “It makes no sense. You didn't request Johanna did you?”

Katniss barked a laugh, pressing a kiss against Clove's temple enamoured she was asking again. "As if. She already played the weak and helpless angle, and we saw her wicked ability for murder."

"So that's the only reason?" Clove furrowed her brows, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"Should there be another reason? Like what? How I didn't want my wife to be the first to hunt me down for sport?" Katniss caught Clove's hand in hers, kissing her palm, tapping her engagement ring.

"I like the sound of it." Clove hummed resting their foreheads together and Katniss understood. Herself completely disarmed by the simple word. Wife. “We should leave,” Clove muttered. “Go before whatever this plan is gets us killed.”

“With the Careers still out there. I don't think Beetee would turn on us."

“I don’t even trust him. They are all victors, we are all victors we all did things do go home-" Clove paused, swallowed turned away from her. "Johanna's waiting for an excuse, she's circling like a vulture dead meat. You saw the way Johanna looked when Beetee mentioned the lightning tree. Playing dumb about the wire. There are only eight of us left.”

"If we leave we'd be fighting on two fronts. Especially because Brutus and Enobaria would ignore the others and come for us first."

"So we stay for this plan and then take out Finnick and Johanna."

"I don't think I can." Not after seeing him with Mags, after saving Clove, not after watching his weird obsession with the bread rolls they kept getting sent. Not when she rocked on the floor next to him haunted by Prim's screams.

"Finnick?" Clove chuckled mirthlessly. "He played the game perfectly, the bastard. If it were to protect you but-" She trailed off. "He's looking at Johanna now. For every decision we make, every direction we take. They have known each other longer. He rather turns on us than her."

They sat like that, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the sand.

After a while, Katniss said softly, “I’m going to make sure you get out.”

Clove blinked, turning toward her fully. “Don’t start.”

“We both know why we are here. I'm not going to make it out again," Katniss met her gaze steadily, knowing Clove knew she hadn't convinced Snow that he wouldn't make the same mistake again and let her live.

“I'm not leaving without you,” Clove snapped.

“If one of us makes it out it has to be you. The Career from District 2.” Katniss’ voice was firmer now, eyes narrowed. “You promised me you'd look after Prim.”

Clove opened her mouth to argue—but it twisted into something else. Frustration. Grief. “You promised me a life together.”

“And you'll have every second of mine,” Katniss whispered, touching her fingers gently to Clove’s. “But if it comes down to it… you have to keep your promise.”

“No.”

Katniss leaned forward, forehead nearly touching hers. “We'll fight. For as long as we can. And then the choice is made. Given the chance you'd do the same."

Clove reached for her. Pulled her in by the collar of her damp suit and kissed her—hard, brief, desperate. She pulled away only far enough to breathe.

“You don’t get to do that, Everdeen. You don’t get to decide you’re the sacrifice.”

Katniss took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles—to the ring—and rested her brow there. "We fight, you'll go home,” she said, then as a last blow for the audience, for Snow and because she knew it in her heart. “You are going to be a great mother, you know.”

Clove closed her eyes tightly, a tear running down her cheek, which Katniss nuzzled away before it could be seen. “I want more time.”

“Me too.”

*

Katniss shouldn’t have left Clove. They should’ve just run the night before. Given up the pretense of alliance. Her eyes swept over the jungle path while Johanna unspooled the wire. She offered her hand to help her over a patch of rocks—between the wire and the axe in Johanna’s hand, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back toward the tree.

Clove was with Finnick and Beetee. Beetee she could maybe trust. Finnick—she wanted to. But after Johanna's arrival.

And Clove…

Katniss had to get to her. Keep her alive. Why had she agreed to this plan?

“I can take over for a bit,” she said, hoping to speed things along. Not just because of the lightning.

Johanna nodded and handed over the spool.

The wire went taut.

They froze. Katniss dropped the spool and reached for her bow, heart pounding—

She hit the ground hard. Her back slammed into wet earth. Johanna was suddenly on top of her, straddling her chest, knees pinning her arms. A sharp crack rang in her skull—something had hit her—her vision swam, ears ringing. Breath caught in her lungs.

Suddenly there was pain in her left arm, Johanna lifting a knife, twisting deeper into her flesh while warmth bursts down her arms, filling her palm.

“Hush. I’m doing all the work, no need to be dramatic.” Her hand cupped her cheek, running down her neck, leaving a bloody trail. “Thinking about that I deserve a little treat, Mockingjay.”

A sudden pressure against her lips, then a soft, mocking chuckle as she shoved Katniss back into the dirt. “Now be good and stay down.” "

Johanna stood in time for a voice to ring out.

“There!” Vision swimming she saw Johanna throw one of her axes then disappear into the jungle.

“Leave her Enobaria, she’s as good as dead.” Footsteps came and went. Was she? Blood filled her mouth. The cold spreading into her bones making her tremble.

Katniss laid still. Cold seeped into her bones. She was shaking.

Johanna had attacked her. Left her bleeding. The alliance was over.

No. Wait.

Clove.

Katniss rolled to her side with a gasp, staring at the wound in her arm. Crawled toward a tree. Used it to drag herself upright. Pain in her chest.

Did she misread everything? Had it all been a lie—Finnick, even Beetee?

She threw up.

Still trembling, she tore moss from the tree and pressed it to the wound—temporary, buying time. She had to find Clove. Make sure she was safe. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

Arrow notched, she used the trees to stay upright, half-stumbling her way back to the lightning tree—only to find it deserted.

The cannon fired. Desperate, beyond caring she screamed out for her.

“Clove!” A soft groan caught her attention. Beetee, crumbled to the floor.

A knife on the stick, wrapped in wire. He didn’t have any obvious wounds. Though he was exactly in front of the force field around the tree. Had he betrayed them as well? Was betrayed, What had he done? This wasn’t the plan, What was he doing with the force field when they were waiting for lightning.

“Katniss! Katniss Where are you?” Finnick. She went down on her knee, swaying but aimed her bow just as he burst into the clearing. She aimed for his eye, quick, certain. ”Katniss we need to go, regroup with Johanna and Clove.”

“Where is she?” Their eyes met, he raised his hands placative though still keeping hold of his trident. “You killed her didn’t you”

“Katniss no.” Her arm trembled, her vision hazy. She had failed. Enobaria sneaked into the clearing. If Clove was still alive she could take out at least one of them. She shouldn’t have left. She still could take Finnick out with her. ”Katniss, remember who the real enemy is!”

What. Remember who the real enemy is. When you are out there promise me something, remember who the real enemy is. Haymitch. Thunder growled. The arena sparked to life.

“Katniss get away from the tree.” The flaw, the chink in the armor. The Capitol. President Snow. Without hesitation,n she picked up the wire, the knife, wrapping it around her arrow. “Katniss no!”

Lighting struck and she let the arrow loose. Gooseflesh erupted, white flare. She screamed. Raged. Howled. Cracks appeared in the dome, blackness spread. Her heart gave a few weak pumps.

“Clove.” She mumbled. she was never going to leave without her.

*

She woke to the hum of a hovercraft. To Capitol stink, when all she’d wanted was oblivion.

The metal beneath her vibrated faintly, that sterile hum she remembered all too well. Her throat burned with the taste of blood and antiseptic. Her body ached—her head throbbed like a war drum—but her arm had been stitched, bandaged. They’d kept her alive. That alone filled her with dread.

She sat up slowly. No restraints. No guards. Which meant they either thought she couldn’t fight—or wouldn’t bother trying.

She was going to prove them wrong.

A tray of medical tools glinted on a nearby counter. Her hand closed around a syringe, the only thing even close to a weapon. She pushed to her feet, swaying. Her knees barely held her weight. Every joint screamed.

The corridor outside was cold, fluorescent, soulless. Capitol. She knew this scent: bleach and blood, metal and menace.

Beetee laid on a gurney in the next chamber—unconscious, chest rising slow and steady. For a moment, she stared down at him, syringe still in hand. A quick jab to the neck. He wouldn’t feel a thing. It would be mercy, if they were back in enemy hands.

But if Finnick had spoken true. If Clove really was alive—

She couldn’t tip them off. Clove came first, so she moved on, promising to come back for Beetee if she could.

Voices echoed down the hallway, bouncing off the sterile walls like ghosts.

“Communications are down in Seven, Ten, and Twelve. But Eleven has control of transportation now, so there’s at least a hope of them getting some food out.”

“Don’t be stupid, Finnick. That’s the worst thing you could do. Get her killed for sure. As long as you're alive, they’ll keep her alive as bait.”

Haymitch. Finnick. Alive. Talking.

Her grip on the syringe tightened. Every step was a stumble, but she kept going.

She pushed open the door and found them—Finnick, Haymitch and was that Plutarch? All huddled around a glowing projection of Panem. Calm. Planning. Like none of it mattered.

Katniss didn’t hesitate. She launched herself at Plutarch with a hoarse cry, the syringe aimed straight for his throat.

Haymitch caught her mid-lunge, wrenching her arm behind her. “So it’s you and a syringe against the Capitol?” he snapped. “See, that’s why no one lets you make the plans.” He tore the weapon from her fingers. “Drop it.”

"What are you doing? Where are we?"

“Miss Everdeen. Welcome,” Plutarch said coolly, smoothing his jacket, “this is the revolution. And you are the Mockingjay.”

Katniss tore herself free. Her voice cracked.

“Where is she?”

“Sweetheart—”

“You were our mission from the beginning—”

“Where is she?!”

“Katniss!”

The door behind them hissed open.

She turned. Her breath stopped.

Clove stood framed in the light—shoulder in a cast, bruised, pale, but alive. Hair damp. Lips bloodless. And holding a syringe in her uninjured hand, just like Katniss had.

Two weapons. Same choice. Same fear.

Their eyes locked across the room—both blinking like they didn’t believe it. Then Katniss moved, fast as her battered body would let her.

She crashed into Clove, wrapping her arms around her like she could hold her together with force alone. Clove dropped the syringe without looking, one hand slipping behind Katniss’ neck, the other gripping her hip, anchoring.

“I thought I lost you,” Katniss choked.

Clove didn’t let go. Didn’t even blink.

“I heard you scream my name in the arena,” she murmured. “But Enobaria was too close. Johanna led her away after we killed Brutus—then everything went insane. The arena cracked open. I was searching for you but Finnick found me. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Katniss whimpered, burying her face in Clove’s neck. She could feel her heartbeat there—wild, real, alive. Her fingers dug into the fabric of Clove’s shirt like she could stitch them together with her grip alone.

She kissed her. Not on the lips, not yet. Just her temple, again and again and again.

“Promise?”