Music: "The Earth Prelude" by Ludovico Einaudi.

Epilogue

Christmas Eve, 1850

Katniss Everdeen-Mellark was singing. The sun had begun to sink behind the rooftops in the distance, a canvas of orange and pink, a rare view in wintertime. Standing at the balcony of hers and Peeta's suite, she thought of things to come: music boxes, meadows, and hopefully a dandelion-shaped constellation.

The baked cinnamon scent of raisin bread curled from the first floor window. Soon, she'd be called in for a holiday supper.

Not yet, though. With a smile, Kat smoothed her hands over her velvet frock. The texture was soft and comforting as she rubbed the swell of her stomach, cradling the new shape her body had taken, like a deep, protective cave. For an instant, she'd stopped singing in order to marvel at it. When she felt a tiny kick, as if demanding that she continue the song, she chuckled.

She started up the tune again, the lyrics unfurling in a soothing, patient cadence. She hadn't sung this song in years, not since another Christmas night when Mr. Mellark and his son had requested it of her, as she'd shivered on their doorstep. It had brought her to this house, to this moment, and she was grateful.

A pair of sturdy arms sneaked around her from behind. As usual, she smelled flour on his hands, even though he'd cleaned them.

Peeta whispered, "I love that song."

Kat snuggled into him. "I love a lot of things right now."

Settling his chin on her shoulder, he laced his fingers with hers over the bump they'd made together. "How is she?"

Katniss angled her head, furnishing her husband with a quizzical look. "What makes you think it's a girl?"

"Because I'm always right. I have a gift for predictions."

A month after his father caught them together and gave them a sound lecture, in which he struggled to remain gruff despite his blushing—then cried and hugged them both when they gave him their news—they'd had a private toasting. Only a teary Mr. Mellark, a beaming Effie, and an indifferent Buttercup were in attendance. Kat choose her favorite color, a pine green gown, simple but elegant, swirling around her feet like a filmy scarf, and she carried wildflowers from the woods. Peeta wore a dark suit and a perpetual smile. He was so engrossed in staring at Kat that he burned his bread.

Effie gifted them with a locket, to be shared between them, as they did all things. Mr. Mellark's present was a custom-bound book, in which Peeta could draw and Kat could write. They decided it would be a memory book about the people, plants, and constellations that mattered to them.

That evening, friends and neighbors—from the merchant quarter and the Seam—arrived to celebrate. They served game from Kat and Gale's hunt, and a cake from the Mellark family bakery. Everyone danced and hooted and clapped, and ended up bouncing in a long line throughout the house, with Finnick at the head of it. At some point, Kat and Peeta sneaked out to the roof to stargaze.

They had grown up in this house, so rather than finding their own property, they remained here with Mr. Mellark. But because he had forbidden them to spend a single night together until they were married, Kat and Peeta were antsy and rather energetic. In a honeymoon cottage in the countryside, they had jumped on each other, unable to sate themselves for the following three days. Although they'd finally come up for air, enough to take a carriage ride back to Kat's beloved forest and set a picnic beside their lake, they'd lasted about ten minutes before hands and lips met.

In his arms, as they moved together, she'd had an unexpected feeling, a peculiar sense of déjà vu, that they'd done this before, in some other time—only in the water instead of at its edge. She felt as though they'd lived many different stories, worn many different guises, but that they were always, always themselves at heart.

In the afterglow, Kat challenged Peeta, "Race you naked to the water!"

"In your condition?" he teased.

"What condition? I'm hardly fragile. You can try to best me any way you want."

"I'd take you up on that, if . . ."

"If?" she nudged.

With a goofy grin, he shrugged. "If it weren't for the baby."

Predictions, indeed. According to Peeta, it had happened by the lake. Kat liked to believe it did. In fact, she had believed it immediately, a flash of fear shadowing her surprise. Would she be a good mother? She'd never really had one herself. It had taken five, ten, fifteen breaths to calm down. Then happiness and hope washed through her, as it did now.

She and Peeta had each other. And her. Their little legend. Their tiny rebel. Their magical fae. Their floating waterlily. Their own, very real star.

Kat rested the back of her head against his chest, his collar brushing her cheek as she listened to the melody of his heartbeat. "We haven't decided on a name yet."

"That's because we've been too busy hearing everyone else's opinion," he reminded her.

"Speaking of which, for the last time, you can tell Finnick, no. If you're right, if it is a girl, we're not naming her Finnicka."

"I will, as long as you reiterate to Deliah that she's not being so honored either. Nor Johanna."

"Nor Effie."

Peeta snorted. "We've spoiled my great aunt enough by letting her take charge of the nursery plans."

Kat patted his fingers. "It's so cute how you think we actually had a say in that."

"We have the final say about our daughter's name. That's what counts."

"About that. I do have a suggestion."

"Hmm. You're going to make me guess, aren't you?"

"There are worse games to play," she quipped.

"I know." He leaned down and nipped her earlobe. "We've played them."

Laughing, she twisted her face up to meet his kiss. Her mouth parted under him, playful and languid, tasting the sweet pinch of cinnamon and something distinctly Peeta. Dares, tricks, denials, mishaps, quarrels, realizations, touches, happy endings. Friends, love, real or not—and finally, real. Truly, they had played every game.

Mr. Mellark called out from one of the windows, beckoning them to the table, somehow knowing where they were. There was food to be eaten, more songs to be sung, a family to be had, and a home to make.

"Not yet," Kat said when Peeta moved to guide her indoors, one hand encased in his, the other settled on her stomach. "Stay with us."

He collected a blanket from the bedroom and returned to the balcony, wrapping it around their shoulders, keeping his girls warm. "Always," he said.

They watched the last whisper of sunset, the sky shifting into something equally familiar. They waited to see it happen, knowing it was going to be a clear, bright night.

Hey everyone,

Four years ago today, I posted the first chapter of my first fanfic, Legend. I didn't know what I was doing or whether it was any good. I only knew that I loved these two characters and didn't want to let them go. I'd been reading Everlark for months by then, and it seemed like fun, so I somehow found the courage to try my own story. I couldn't begin to imagine the response it would get, the friends I'd make, the community that I'd find, or the things I'd learn about writing. Suddenly there were reviews—from actual readers!—fanart, messages in my inbox, and tumblr posts. I'd planned on only one story, but after Legend, I had another idea . . . and another . . . and, well, you know.

I've met a constellation of amazing writers who became friends and literary allies: DustWriter (who urged me to post Legend), iLoVeRynMar, TomiStaccato, misshoneywell, Court81981 (for whom this story was written), Chelzie (who has been the brightest star), and so many others.

I've received notes from readers that made me smile and chuckle and sniffle. I'm so proud and humbled that my words have reached people and made them happy.

For me, writing these stories has been about sharing: sharing this love for Suzanne Collins's book and Everlark, and celebrating that. I will miss fanfic, even as I continue original works, but I'm excited to finish this chapter of my storytelling life on the same day it began. Thank you all for the reviews, the messages, the support, the motivation, the inspiration, and the delight. Thanks for letting me fangirl with you. Thanks for letting me hang out here for a while.

It has been magical. It has been real.

~HGR