Chapter 1: You Know Why

I watch, silent and solemn, as Mother pulls my brown hair into the signature braid that runs down my back. I smooth down my blue Reaping dress, trying to do something to help even though I am horrible at fashion and other kinds of womanly grooming. Mother and I both look into the mirror.

"Now you look beautiful, too," Mother says quietly, though her expression remains blank.

"I wish I looked like you," my little sister Prim - just 17 years old - speaks up from the settee.

I don't respond, even though I quietly wish that I looked more like her. It would be easier, to not be recognized everywhere I go.

My blue Reaping dress is the only fancy dress that I own. Of course, I can afford many more now, but have chosen to maintain some of my more frugal tastes in clothing at least. Old habits die hard. And I shouldn't really even call it my Reaping dress anymore. Not since I am no longer eligible for the Reaping, having won the Hunger Games for District 12.

And not just once. But twice.

I first won the 74th Hunger Games, at age 16. My hunting partner and good friend, Gale Hawthorne, got me close to the end and sacrificed himself to save me. I thus became only the third Victor from District 12 in almost three-quarters of a century.

Then, the next year, the 75th Hunger Games featured a special Quarter Quell twist. This twist required Victors to return to the arena. I was forced in again, along with my 40-something drunken mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, who just so happened to win the previous Quell as a teenager. He too, died so that I might live. Winning two Hunger Games back-to-back, I became the greatest Victor ever. In the last several years, I have represented Twelve by mentoring our tributes for the Games. So far, none have come back alive.

Thankfully, my mother and sister and I are not getting dressed up for a Reaping. It is the middle of the year, winter, and the Games are held every summer. But required attendance is ordered mid-winter for one special purpose, one that is even more sick than the Hunger Games.

Every winter, Defectives that have turned 21 are ordered to be executed if they cannot demonstrate a usefulness to District 12 society.

A Defective is someone who has been rendered sexually impotent. Sterile. Unable to have children. If only that were me! Even before winning the Games, I vowed to never marry or bear offspring, having seen how my father's death in a mining accident tore my mother apart. All children, soon after they are born, are required to take a medical examination by the Capitol to determine if they are Defective. I don't know how the procedure works exactly, or how Defectiveness is determined. I was still small when Primrose would have been tested, so I don't remember. All I know is that I am perfectly capable of falling pregnant, if I so chose. Which I don't.

Mother and Prim and I stand in the square, which is a welcome position for me. For the Reapings, I have been made to stand on the podium with the Mayor and others, to see who I will train and then ultimately send to their deaths.

The Mayor now steps forward, ready to read the names of those Defectives who have turned 21 and must be executed.

There are cases where a Defective can be saved, of course. An obvious path is winning the Hunger Games in your teen years. There are rumors that Cassiope Fletch, our district's first Victor who won the 16th Hunger Games and died before I was born, was Defective, but such murmurings have never been proven. I don't know if Haymitch was or not. I never got to ask him, and the truth is my stomach would have recoiled at the thought of doing so. I do recall him saying once that he had a girlfriend in his youth, but that doesn't say much about his... sexual abilities.

Another path is for Defectives to prove that they can serve a useful purpose in Twelve other than through reproduction. Often, this hope lies in being the only surviving child, or at least the eldest child, so that you would be next in line to inherit a family business. Lots of Merchants and even some Seam artisans have escaped via this loophole.

The third option... is for someone to step forward and promise to marry the Defective. I have never seen this option carried out before, though. For someone to willingly marry a Defective is seen as sacrificing social prestige, and even bringing on ostracization by your friends and neighbors.

"Peeta Mellark!" the Mayor calls the next name on the list, shaking me out of my stupor.

Peeta Mellark! Not him!

For Peeta Mellark and I have a connection that means more than I have ever cared to admit. We only interacted once and it was years ago. When my family was starving after my father died, Peeta tossed me a bit of burned bread in the rain to feed me and my family. I have always suspected that he burnt the bread on purpose, but never got to find out for him, much less thank him. If I tried to now, he probably wouldn't even remember. And now I might never be able to.

I had no idea he was Defective.

The Mayor is asking Peeta questions about his usefulness to society. Peeta comes from a family of bakers, the youngest of three sons, so the eldest (whose name I can't remember) is guaranteed to inherit the bakery after his father, the Baker, dies. Peeta is my age, 21, and no longer eligible to win the Hunger Games.

The only option left to save his life is...

"Is there any woman who wishes to volunteer to marry this man and save his life?" the Mayor is asking. Silence in this moment will mean that Peeta will then be sent into the Justice Building to die by lethal injection.

Before I know what I am fully doing, I step out of the crowd, and the moment takes me back to when I volunteered for the 74th Hunger Games, to go in Prim's place. "I volunteer!"

The entire district gapes at me in disbelief. Katniss Everdeen, the only living Victor from our District, has just volunteered to wed a Defective. I mount the stage and stand beside a speechless Peeta. The Mayor hastily summons a parchment and piece of toast, the latter of which he then burns over a contained fire. Peeta and I sign the parchment, and share the bread. No one in District 12 feels married until after what is known as the Toasting.

"I declare you bonded for life."

Sometimes in weddings, couples share a kiss as a final cementation of their marriage. I am suddenly gripped with fear. Is Peeta Mellark going to try and kiss me in front of the entire District?

But he does not make a move, and neither do I. Slipping back into the crowd with him, we watch as the six other not-so-lucky Defectives are led to their deaths.

It is a quiet walk back to Victors' Village with Mother and Prim. Our mansion is the only one with lights on, out of the twelve that ring the fountain at the center. Only two others look like they have ever been lived in; Cassiope and Haymitch's abandoned dwellings now serve more as pilgrimage sites or makeshift memorials than anything else.

It is only when Mother puts on some tea and orders Primrose to bed that I realize: Peeta will have to sleep in my room. Peeta and I have to sleep in the same bed together. I give a jerk of my head, to indicate Peeta should follow me up to my chambers.

It took me a while to get used to my own room. Before I became Victor, Prim and I shared a bed in our meager home in the Seam. But, I find the privacy has given me comfort in one way: from all the nightmares I still have about the Games. I have never wanted to worry Mother or Prim with these dreams, so I have mostly suffered through them in silence these last several years.

Peeta pauses at the door. "I'll let you change," he murmurs. "Call when you're ready."

I nod gratefully at him and slip inside. I strip off my blue Reaping dress and change into my white nightgown. All the while, I face the mirror, the one Mother used to make me look pretty. How life has changed in a matter of hours!

I call to Peeta, and he comes in, to find that I am brushing my hair, running my fingers through each strand to get the tangle out of my braid. I look down, so I can't see him moving about in the reflection of the mirror.

"Why did you save me?" It is the question that has likely been on both of our minds since I stepped out from the crowd.

I refuse to meet his gaze, even as my fingers going through my hair slow slightly. "You know why," I almost whisper. At least I hope he does.

"Actually... I don't."

"I never got to thank you. For the bread. All those years ago. It saved our lives and well, Seam folk place great value in owing someone." I shrug. "A life for a life. My debt is repaid."

I am still not looking at him as I say this. So I don't see him through the mirror until -

I am suddenly spun around. Hands grip my shoulders and then...

His lips crush into mine. A fiery kiss. My hands find his pectoral muscles blindly for purchase, as I stiffen with shock in his embrace.

Peeta is kissing me wildly, even as I thrash my head from side to side, so that our mouths battle for dominance. I'm fighting this, even if I don't know exactly why. Mother always taught Primrose and I how to defend ourselves if we were met with forceful sexual advances.

Peeta's hands frame my face, forcing his mouth back to mine. Suddenly, my grunts of resistance turn to gasps of pleasure. My palms pressed flat into his chest, ready to push him away, curl into fists as I clutch him closer. I feel myself, clumsy though I am, kiss him back.

"Uhh... Uhh..." Panting heavily, and slinging an arm about Peeta's neck, I spin about and slam him back into the mirror. The whole thing tips over, its glass shattering loudly, but neither Peeta nor I care. Peeta's one hand sinks into my hair, the nape of my neck. And then suddenly his hands are everywhere. He heavily gropes and pets my ass, and without even knowing what I am doing, I am climbing his body like a tree, even as Peeta hoists me up by my thighs in perfect harmony. He starts to carry me staggeringly back to our bed. His lips pepper my face and lips everywhere, short desperate kisses that leave my jaw slack with shock... and then slowly melt into a blissful... smile. Oh... oh my... how can love feel this... warm...?

Peeta throws me down onto my bed and moves to straddle my hips. I feel his strong, calloused hands push up the skirt of my nightgown, up past my thighs. My thighs which now open for him, splay widely, seemingly of their own accord. I hear Peeta rid of himself of his pants and belt.

I should feel afraid, terrified. Wondering how I have gotten into this position at all. But I'm not. If I am to have sex, I would rather do it with a Defective. There is no risk of falling pregnant with Peeta's children. We can have sex as often and as unprotected as we like.

I feel his penis slam into me long before I sense it. I give a yelp at the suddenness of it. Next second, it is silenced by Peeta kissing me deeply on the mouth. "Hmmmmm..." I moan.

Peeta stops immediately. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," I croak. "Keep going."

And Peeta begins to slide in and out, in and out. My hips snap up to meet his every thrust. The bed creaks and sways with our combined weights. I can only hope Mother and Prim are asleep.

"Uhhh... Uhhhhh... HUHHHHH! HUHHHHH! OHHHHHH!" My moans become louder and louder and more pathetic as we both rush to our climax. At last, I am sent over the cliff's edge and land amongst the stars. Peeta collapses on top of me after spilling himself inside of me. His sweaty face kisses mine, his tongue sliding itself into my mouth and down my throat. I have never had a man's tongue down my throat, and the sensation feels almost ticklish, but I hold Peeta close and kiss him back.

We fall asleep a tangled mess in each other's arms.

The very next day, my mother and my sister and... my husband see me off at the District 12 train station. I have to go to the Capitol to attend the Victory Tour Celebration. District 2 won again this year, as the Career districts so often do. And though I am to be reminded of how my own protégés died, as a Victor, I am a public official. I must go.

"Have a good time, Katniss," Peeta wishes me luck. Then, to my surprise, he takes me in his arms and audaciously kisses me passionately. And in front of my family. Though startled, I kiss him back. A kiss goodbye. From a husband wanting to see his wife come home as soon as possible.