Finding comfort in the baker's son

Disclaimer: The 'Hunger Games' trilogy and the characters therein are owned by Suzanne Collins. My compliments and thanks to her for writing the books, and I admit to using the book background and characters in this story. Any errors I make by not describing the characters as well and properly as in the books are mine alone.

[Author's Notes: The story starts more than seven years prior to the start of the canon, when Katniss is nine years old and Primrose five. An incident makes Peeta's oldest brother Rye, who is fifteen years old at the beginning of the story, meet Primrose and her family; they grow to be good friends, and Rye helps Prim to survive the horror of watching cruel Hunger Games. Everlark is going to happen in the background, but the main story is about Rye and Prim. The 74th Hunger Games with Katniss and Peeta will be covered from an outside/district point of view, but close to canon, although I allow myself some liberties. Later on, moving towards the rebellion, things will deviate further from the books. For instance, as Prim is one of my main characters, she will not die, and district 12 will probably not be destroyed, at least not entirely. This is my first attempt on a canon like Hunger Games fanfiction story; for the time being at least, I will try to keep each chapter between 3000 and 5000 words.]

Chapter 1: The train incident

[Spring in the year of the 68th Hunger Games]

On a sunny afternoon in spring I helped Dad to pull our cart towards the train station of district 12. School was over for the day, and a train was expected to arrive; it was supposed to bring some deliveries for our bakery, mostly tools and ingredients we could not get in our own district. Rain had fallen last night, and the path was somewhat slippery. While the temperature was comfortable enough, humidity was high, and everything was quite wet, including the platform. Nevertheless I appreciated the opportunity to get out and around and help my father, even as we got our boots dirty and had to be careful not to slip on some wet patches on the unpaved ground.

Of course the train from the Capitol was not on time, as usual, and while we waited, a dark voice called a 'Good Morning!' in our direction. Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th Hunger Games and, as far as I knew, the only winner from our district ever, staggered in our direction, a bottle in his hand. Judging from the smell which wavered around him, he had been drinking again, a lot.

"Mr. Abernathy", my Dad greeted him, "why don't you go to your comfortable home and try to sleep a little?"

"Yes, indeed", he replied, "maybe I should do this".

However, when he turned to walk back towards his plush home in the district's Victory Village, he stumbled and almost feel hard to the ground, if my father had not caught him in time. He attempted to mumble some kind of thanks before he finally and slowly disappeared. Seeing and smelling him confirmed my conviction to not consume alcoholic drinks if I could help it. I knew that my mother sometimes drank, and frequently she tried to hit me or one of my brothers after she had imbibed. I could not resist the temptation to ask my father:

"Do you know why Haymitch almost always drinks? I don't think that I have seen him completely sober more than once or twice a year..."

"Son", my father replied, "he won the second Quarter Quell, the 50th Hunger games, almost 20 years ago. At that time I was too young to fully understand what happened, but there are rumors that was devastated by all of the killing in the arena, specifically when the female tribute from our district, Maysilee Donner, came to die. In addition, and this is most likely the main cause, most of his family and his girlfriend were killed in an accident not long after the games. Some claim that President Snow did not like some of his actions he performed in the arena and arranged the accident. Finally, it is probably quite frustrating to mentor tributes each year, just to see them being killed each year, being mentor is probably not as glamorous as some think."

Wow, hearing that I got a quite different view of Haymitch. I had always thought of him as a poor old man who is too weak to stop drinking, but if all of this really happened, he had all reasons to drink, I guessed.

Today we only had to wait about half an hour fore the train to arrive, which was better than average. Sometimes it was delayed by days, when some repair work had to be done either in the train itself or on the tracks. If the Capitol did not need our coal so much, they probably would not bother sending trains at all. As it was, trains mainly arrived to pick up coal, and not always to bring much needed food and other merchandise to the district. Particularly in winter, food was sometimes rare, as we did not have many chances to grow crops; most food had to be brought in from other districts. A few district residents had livestock like hens or goats, but not enough by far to sustain the entire population.

When we could see the train approaching in the distance, I could finally stop thinking about Haymitch, as Dad and I slowly moved along the platform towards the area which usually had the freight cars; Dad mumbled something about the goods we expected. A group of people passed us, including some children; an arriving train was always an opportunity for gawking. Two teenage boys in that group were apparently fighting about something, and one of the boys moved backwards to avoid being hit. Unfortunately, a little girl was passing right behind him, jumping excitedly just ahead of what I suspected to be her mother, and the boy's move pushed the girl from the platform down to the tracks. I was just a couple of meters away and saw the train approaching, while the woman behind the girl started to scream; the little girl was lying down across the tracks, looking injured. As I knew exactly that the train would never be able to stop in time and was going to kill or at least maim her within less than five seconds, I jumped down next to her, scooped her up in my arms, and vaulted to the other side of the tracks on the grass there. The train slowed down behind me, passing behind us quite close, but the girl was safe for now.

A couple of minutes later, some peacekeepers had reached us, including Darius, who was one of the most youngest and friendly ones. He asked if we were okay, and I told him that it looked like the young girl had hurt her ankle or foot. She had briefly looked at me, but fainted when I had carried her off. We did not have something like an official doctor or a district hospital, but Darius suggested:

"Look, the young girl is Primrose Everdeen, youngest daughter of the Everdeens, and Mrs. Everdeen is some kind of healer. I think it would be best to get her to her mother's house; maybe you could carry her there, as you look quite strong?"

While I appreciated the comment on my strength – despite my age of only fifteen years, I had reached above average tallness, and the work in the bakery plus sports and wrestling at school had toned my muscles – I knew that Dad needed my help, and thus I pleaded:

"I would love to, but Dad needs my help to unload the goods for the bakery. You know that the train isn't going to wait..."

He replied: "Don't worry, Ryan; I will send a couple of my colleagues to help out right away, and they'll also tell your father about your current obligations."

I shrugged and nodded; obviously I did not have much of a choice. Easily I picked up the girl again in my arms and followed Darius around the train, until we reached the end of the platform on the other side. The girl's mother waited there and was very much relieved to see her daughter. Darius introduced us:

"Ryan, this is Mrs. Everdeen, mother to Primrose Everdeen. Mrs. Everdeen, this is Ryan Mellark, oldest son of Mr. Mellark, the baker. He was in a position to save your daughter, and except for a sprained ankle or so she seems to be unhurt; probably just fainted. If you agree, Mrs. Everdeen, Ryan volunteers to take your daughter back to your home."

Despite the kind words I knew that this was not a question, but an order, and although I had not really volunteered, I obeyed. Okay, I did not really mind, knowing that Darius would keep his promise to send help to Dad for unloading, and thus I slowly followed Mrs. Everdeen. I had not walked this far into the Seam for quite some time, and soon I did not really know the houses and the people any longer. In one of the poorer areas, even on the Seam scale, the woman entered a small house and waved me in; I was directed to carefully lower the girl to the couch there.

Before Mrs. Everdeen started to examine her daughter in detail, she turned around to me and said: "Mr. Mellark, I have not had a chance yet to say this, so now is the time: Thank you very much for saving my daughter Primrose. What you did was very brave and altruistic; few Merchant people would have done something like that for a Seam girl."

"Mrs. Everdeen", I replied, "I would have done the same for every person. In addition, I did not know that she was a Seam girl, and I did not have time to look closely. And if you don't mind me saying this, both you and your daughter do not really look like Seam."

This was true – both of them had blue eyes, blond hair, and light skin, the daughter's skin a few shades darker, whereas most Seam residents had darker, olive colored skin, very dark hair, and brown or grey eyes. Since Seam and Merchant rarely wed outside of their 'class', mixes were not common at all.

Mrs. Everdeen smiled and replied: "Yes, we are Seam, and why we look different is a story for another day. Before I check my daughter, let me please invite you to lunch for next Sunday. My husband will also want to meet you, and he is working in the mines."

Of course her husband would be working in the mines, as almost all Seam men did. As Seam men rarely were accepted into positions in the Merchant area, this was the one job open to them. I nodded and thanked Mrs. Everdeen for her invitation, confirming that I was going to accept and come on Sunday. I added that I was going to bring desert, and although she tried to refuse, I insisted.

Before I left, Mrs. Everdeen asked: "You are the oldest son of Jacob Mellark, right?"

When I agreed, she nodded and mumbled: "Yes, no mistake; you seem to be as kind as your father is."

Before I could ask how she meant that and how she knew my father – I could not recall her to be a customer in the bakery, or at least not a regular one – she sent me off, claiming that she needed to have a closer look at her daughter now. I had some trouble finding my way back, but I managed and eventually got back to the bakery. My father had already unloaded the cart there and was happy that I could go back to the station with him for the second load, which he had temporarily placed close to the platform. As he had seen what I had done to save the girl, he put his hands on my shoulder, and said: "My son, your act on the platform was brave and smart acting – I am quite proud of you!"

While we walked, I told him about Mrs. Everdeen and the invitation, and he said: "Ah yes, Mabel. Let me make sure that we have some fine desert you can take with you on Sunday."

'Mabel'? He was on first name basis with her? I guess that I'd want to ask him about this later on. For now, I only asked Dad if we had received everything we had ordered, and he smiled: "Son, of course not – that would have been a first. However, we got most of what we need to get along. How much I wish we could go into the forest beyond the fence and pick some more berries, or have large fields to grow our own crops!"

Hearing that I asked: "Why don't they move the fence some way into the forest to give us more options?"

My father shook his head: "I do not know, son. I have asked the mayor a couple of times, but he told me that they needed to keep wild animals out of the district and could not move the fence. So far I have not seen many wild animals close to the fence, but maybe they are further out."

On Sunday morning I was about to sleep in; all homework for school was done, and I did not have to work a shift in the bakery today. However, long before I expected, my father entered my room and suggested to step down into the bakery to look into what I was going to bring to the Everdeens for desert. I was quite curious about that:

"Dad, why can't I just take some leftover pastries and cupcakes?"

His reply was stern: "Son, I know that your mother would disapprove and not share my sentiment, but she is not in right now, and for such an invitation we bakers do better. I will explain some day when you are older, but you are going to take some of our best."

With this being said, he packed a selection of our best pastries and a few slices of cake, and he told me to not forget to say that this was sent with baker's best compliments. He also insisted to dress 'properly', well at least more properly that what I had planned to wear. I knew better to resist and just did what he asked.

Earlier than I had planned I found myself slowly walking towards the Seam, carrying a big pack of the 'baker's best'. I was not quite sure what to expect, and I had probably not dined in a Seam house before. My father had warned me that they were poor and did not have a lot of things we considered normal. I should know show myself concerned about a lack of proper utensils or maybe mediocre quality of food.

"It is quite possible", he had said just before I left, "that they will offer you their best and need to stretch their food for the rest of the week. This is one of the reasons for bringing pastries and such, and I am glad that you insisted on doing that."

With mixed feelings, due to the warnings my father had give me, I finally approached the Everdeen house. Just when I was about to step on the porch, a little whirlwind of a girl stepped out, and before I had a chance to react, she jumped into my arms. I finally moved my arms to hold her, but she had already wrapped her skinny arms around my neck and her legs around my waist to hold tight. Smiling at me she just said: "Ryan, you are my savior. Thank you so much!"

Now I recognized her as the girl I had recused a few days ago from being maimed or even killed by the train. Feeling her in my arms like this and hearing her words almost made me cry, as I was not used to such a kind of affection, and I replied: "Primrose, you are very much welcome. I am glad to see that you are not really hurt, and I am happy to properly make your acquaintance."

The girl responded: "Please call me Prim – all of my friends do. Although, I was hurt a little bit; I sprained my ankle when falling on the tracks, and that's why I was not quick enough to get away in time on my own. But I am fine again now."

I smiled and replied: "All right – you can call me 'Rye', as my friends do."

Prim smiled and begged: "Great, Rye – come in now, please!"

Inside, with the girl on my arms, I was very warmly greeted by Mrs. Everdeen and her husband. Contrary to her, he looked very much Seam, with darker skin, black hair, and grey eyes. Another girl was next to them, and she was introduced as Katniss, Prim's older sister. She was not talking much at all, but Prim compensated for that, with her mouth being busy almost all of the time. Her mother interjected:

"Prim, please give our guest a chance to also participate in the conversation!"

When Prim suddenly stopped talking, I admitted: "Well, I am not much of a talker anyway, and I am quite happy to listen to Primrose talking."

"You are? Really?" Prim looked up at me, apparently finding this hard to believe, but smiling nonetheless.

"Yes, I am, really" I nodded. "I like your voice, and I don't mind to listen to you talking at all."

Before Prim could start another flow of words, Mr. Everdeen cleared his throat and said:

"Mr. Mellark, although my wife has already said so, please also accept my thanks for your deed and your bravery. We are in your debt, and please enjoy your lunch with us."

"Mr. Everdeen", I responded, "saving a life when you are in a position to do so should not create a debt. As your daughter seems to enjoy talking to me, maybe you might allow her to visit me in the bakery from time to time. I do not have a sister, and if she started to admire my daily work there, I might come to enjoy this a lot. Further, please call me 'Ryan' - 'Mr. Mellark' is my father, and I feel old being called like this. Finally, my father specifically asked me to bring this bag of pastries, and I am supposed to emphasize that they are 'with the baker's best greetings'."

I noticed that Mrs. Everdeen blushed a little at my last words, but maybe that was just my imagination. Lunch was now served by Mrs. Everdeen and Katniss, and I was surprised to find out that the meat being served was quite good; it tasted somewhat like game, and it was prepared in a delicious way. My father's warning about the food potentially being of poor quality was not justified at all, and I did not hesitate to compliment Mrs. Everdeen on the meal.

After dinner I handed out the pastries and slices of cake I had brought. Katniss appeared somewhat hesitating helping herself, but Prim had no such concerns and indulged herself, still trying to talk while eating, until her mother stopped her saying that this was impolite behavior.

When we were done with eating, I asked if anybody was interested to visit the bakery any time soon, and Prim was the first to jump up and nod. Her sister seemed to be interested as well at first, but quickly replaced her smile with a scowl, declining the offer. Mrs. Everdeen suggested that she could bring Prim around soon, but she hesitated somewhat, saying:

"I am sorry to mention that, Mr. Mellark, and I do not intend my remark to be an offense, but your mother does not like our family very much. I am afraid that she will be angry if I show up at the bakery. It might be better with Prim as she is a child and your mother does not know her, but you still need to be careful."

I nodded and responded: "Yes, I know that my mother is quite prejudiced against Seam residents, but she is the only one in our family. If she speaks up against Prim, my father and I will not tolerate this, please be assured of that. What about that: Wednesday is a short day for me at school, and I usually spend an hour or two in the bakery in the afternoon. I could pick up Prim here at your home after school, take her to our place, spend some time with her in the bakery, and bring her back home before dusk – would that be all right with you?"

Mrs. Everdeen looked at her husband, and I saw him slowly nodding; both of them agreed, and I had a date with Prim for Wednesday. After shaking hands with everybody I finally left for my walk home. Well, this Sunday had sure been different from others before, and maybe I had just found new friends. Contrary to most of my 'Merchant' friends at school, who mostly looked down at 'Seam' students and people in general and tried to minimize contact with them, my father had raised my brothers and me in a different way, although my mother did not agree, and soon this might be put to the test. If or when the other 'Merchant' students at school realized that I was meeting a 'Seam' girl, even such a young one, I was likely to find myself the target of severe teasing, at the very least. But I owed it to my education and to my own convictions to not give this expectation a chance to make me deviate from my plans.

[Author's Note: Please do let me know what you think about it so far! Also, please do not hesitate to let me know if something is inconsistent or so.]