Author's Notes:

Oh, you're still here? THANK YOU!

I'll keep this brief, because this has literally been a long time coming. If you're still reading this, or if you have pleaded with me over on Tumblr or on a PM to continue, or if you continue to write about this little story of mine, thank you very much for keeping the faith. It has sustained me through the years of my hiatus, through stormy thoughts of sadness where I thought I couldn't write anymore, and through the craziness of having a start-up. I do suggest reading the previous chapters just to familiarise yourselves again with the plot. And lastly, an enormous shout out and thank you to my stellar betas, HGRomance and Titaniasfics for polishing this chapter. It wouldn't be as good without their invaluable inputs. Thank you, HGRomance, for your hilarious side notes that keep me going while I'm editing after a 16-hour workday. And thank you, Titaniasfics, for coming on board with your grammar eagle eye and words of encouragement. I am forever grateful to the work you both have done.

Here we go.

In the Elysian Fields Chapter 8

His queen.

He had asked me to be his queen.

His equal in the rule of the vast underworld.

I looked at Peeta's hopeful eyes. I was still weak from what he had done to me, the pleasure, the rhythmic splendor still thrummed in my blood when I shattered from the very core of my being.

He still held my hand close to his lips, and I brushed my thumb across his cheek, mesmerized by the smoothness.

His queen.

The request had been laid at my feet. Never did I dream I would reach this, when I volunteered for my sister, when I contemplated my death. But I also never did dream I would get what I shared with Peeta. That I would also come to love him, as deeply as I knew he loved me.

So before he withdrew, before the shadows of disappointment and hurt could cross his blue eyes, I gave him my answer.

And it was easy, it was liberating. One word. The truth.

"Yes," I said.

His lips split into a smile. It traveled up his eyes, the happiness shining. His arms surrounded me and pulled me closer to him.

"You would be my queen?" he asked, as though what I said had been part of a dream.

So I reaffirmed my word. My vow. "I will be your queen."

His eyes softened, and he tilted his chin to kiss me, and I responded with equal passion. But the dizzying heights I had fallen from left me drowsy. Sensing this, Peeta gently pulled me to his arms, and I gladly placed my head at the slope of his neck, inhaling his clean scent, before I drifted into the most delicious of sleep.

But it was disrupted by a violent thrashing, a soft pained moan by my ear, and a tightening around my body.

"Peeta," I whispered, trying to pull my arm from beneath my body despite being caged.

"Peeta," I said more forcefully.

Suddenly his arms went limp, releasing me. I was finally able to look at him.

"Peeta!" I shouted. His eyes were open, yet unseeing. Glassy, like an undisturbed pond. His arms lay at his side, but his body was softly convulsing. I sat up and shook his shoulders to wake him from whatever nightmare had trapped him. My hand sought his, and he clamped it painfully. I gritted my teeth to help bear the sudden pain, as my other hand sought to gently stroke his forehead while singing a nameless, wordless lullaby. I remember this had helped me, when I myself had been plagued by horrible visions from the sacrifice I witnessed.

I sang and waited until Peeta came back to me. By this time, he was covered with cold sweat and breathing heavily. His face was pale, and his hand that had gripped me had gone slack, as though his strength had gone. He woke and looked at me in confusion, as though startled to see me there with him. There was an air of vulnerability about him, unusual for such a powerful deity.

"Peeta, what happened?" I asked, my worry mounting every minute.

He exhaled shakily, before sitting up and resting against the stiff pillows I had propped earlier. Peeta stared at his hands, at the cotton blanket, at the wall, everywhere but me, until I could take the silence no longer.

I turned his face to look at me. "What happened?"

"I saw my father."

"Has he escaped?" I shivered at the possibility, for his father was a menace even in the eternal prison of the Titans.

Peeta shook his head. "I believe I saw his memories, Katniss."

I did not think this was possible for the two to be connected. But my curiosity about his dream intrigued me more so I prodded.

"What did you see?"

"Fragments of his consciousness, fleeting moments, nothing that makes sense."

"But why?" I asked. "Has this happened before?"

He shook his head again. "This is the first time," he replied.

"What should we do?" My voice came out as a whisper, concern in every tone

But at once, like a bird quickly taking flight, Peeta gave me a smile. He took my hand and brought it to his lips. "This should not concern you too much, Katniss. When we go to Olympus, I will confer with my brothers and then we will see. Don't look so worried, my love," he said, his voice regaining its easy confidence.

I was not at all assured, but if Peeta wished to not delve into the issue, I relented and let him be. My shoulders relaxed with the another exhale of my breath and I leaned back.

Sinking into the soft pillows, she stiffened sitting up straight again. "We're going to Olympus?" I asked, the other half of his statement sinking in once my guard had been let down. I took the thin cotton blanket and wrapped it around my naked torso, but Peeta pulled it down so suddenly I yelped.

"No. You don't get to wear anything while in bed with me," he teased.

There was a glint of playfulness that came alive in his eyes, suppressing the shadows of worry back to the edges. He was the consummate actor. He would have made a good politician if he had wanted, back when he had been reincarnated in the mortal world.

"To introduce you to the gods. To announce your coronation, of course," he continued smoothly. He turned to the edge of the bed and bent down for the goblet of ambrosia that had been on the floor. There was still a tremor in his neck as he swallowed the honeyed drink.

"So soon?" I asked.

"Is there a purpose in waiting?" he countered, placing the goblet back down. "You have nothing to worry about. I have everything planned, with help from the other deities of course." He smiled that confident smile that flew straight to make nervously delicious loops in my stomach.

"You were this sure I would accept your proposal?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

His smile grew bigger.

I rolled my eyes in mock irritation.

"And when, pray tell, is this presentation to the gods?"

"As soon as you are ready."

And from beyond the curtains, I could see the servants, their lips masked with jewels, descend from the stairs of the sunken garden, bearing a jeweled tunic.

"There is another judging, my love, that I must attend to," Peeta said, kissing my forehead softly in goodbye. "But I shall return to you once it is done and we will go meet my brothers."

I nodded, my eyes closed as I inhaled, the sensation of his lips still dancing on my skin.

Once he was gone, the servants walked forward. They led me to a perfumed bath on the other side of the sunken enclosure. I leaned back on the sloping rock, resting my head as one of them brushed my hair, the waves straightening and floating in the water, as another scrubbed my skin, polishing it to smoothness. The warmth of the water relaxed me, helping to uncoil my knotted muscles at the thought of ascending to Olympus. I watched my shaky breath make ripples in the water.

Once done, the servants helped me out of the bath, dried me, clothed me, and affixed jewels onto the plaits of my hair. I marveled at the gown I wore. The gold cloth flowed down my body like water and shimmered like the sun, held by two gold coins bearing the cornucopia at the shoulder, the same as the ones I had seen with Peeta. The servants tried to make me wear the rings on display from a small chest, but I refused. The jewels in my hair had seemed too extravagant already. I could almost hear Peeta admonishing me, telling me all that is his is mine now, including the richness of his cornucopia and its fat jewels. Perhaps some other time when I had become accustomed, but not now. We walked out of the paradise Peeta had built for me and into the Elysian Fields, but I could still smell the blossoms long after we had passed the door. Everything inside had a beauty that pierced the heart, and I could only feel loving thoughts towards Peeta as I recall everything he did for me.

He stood not far from the door when we emerged in his adamantine hall. Peeta, wearing his majestic palladium armor, smiled when he saw me. He extended his hand as I drew nearer to him, folding over mine when I stood beside him. He asked if I was ready, and I replied with a terse nod.

"What is it, Katniss?" asked Peeta, drawing even closer to me. I looked up into his serious face as he tried to discern what was wrong.

"Only nerves, I guess," I said.

His hand sought my cheek in assurance.

"I have chosen you as my queen and you have accepted. This visit has nothing to do with their approval, my love. It's merely to get acquainted, as you will be spending your time here from now on."

My brows immediately creased at what he implied. "But what of my family?" I asked.

Peeta's expression softened. "I'm afraid it is time to part definitively with them. Your duties as queen would take up all of your time, my love. It is better, I think, to say one more goodbye. I have seen the toll it has taken on you every time you return to me. Don't think I don't see it, Katniss," he admonished.

I was taken aback by his revelation, but the truth was that perhaps my mind had known all along but it was my heart that had refused to accept. Peeta's argument made sense. One final severing of our ties was better than a wound that kept reopening. It was now time to move forward, painful as it was now. I knew this was how it would have been eventually, when they had all passed on.

"If that is how it should be," I said.

"I'm sorry, my love," Peeta murmured. "If I could spare you the pain I would."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault. When should I do it?"

"Only when you are ready."

When I didn't say anything further, Peeta took it as acceptance and gently led my hand towards the door where the light was as bright as the noonday sun.

His chariot awaited us, tethered to the four massive horses that were shifting their feet in impatience. We stepped onto it and as they broke into a gallop, ascending towards the sky. The clouds, mere vapors, parted and revealed the impressive mountain of Olympus, towered by the ivory dwelling of the other gods, the expansive greens enrobing its slopes.

As the horses charged, clearing the line of clouds, I could not help but hear Peeta's words stay in my head, of what I needed to do, of what I must brave through once more.

We stopped at a clearing at the base of the ivory palace, alighting before the massive bronze doors of the palace, not unlike the one in the Titans' prison when it came to breadth and height.

As I stepped down, I inhaled the sweet fragrance of lavenders and thistles. My neck strained to find the top of the double doors. They groaned and opened into a light filled hall, all immaculate columns supporting the unreachable arches, and the light seemed to come from its ceiling, a mysterious glow just like the one in Peeta's palace in the underworld.

We traversed this great hall in silence, with Peeta lightly guiding me by my elbow. I stole a glance at him and his chiseled profile was calm. He cast me an amused glance when he caught my stare, and I turned away, looking forward again, not wanting to seem nervous. The lack of living beings was a question, but one that did not bother me.

"Relax, Katniss. I'm not leading you to a pit of chimeras," he quipped.

We turned left at the end then right at another, Peeta knowing his way most assuredly. I had lost count of our turns until we came across another heavy set of double doors, this time smaller. I caught sight of a beautiful garden and quickened my pace, assured of the direction we were heading. I had always loved the flowers, and plenty of these blooms swayed gently in the wind, along with the soft tinkle of fountains framed by hedges of the greenest leaves. I turned around to beckon Peeta, but I saw that he was not behind me anymore. Nervously, I retraced my steps, and found his dark form behind one of the columns. His hand gripped the marble dents so fiercely that his fingertips had turned white. He did not hear me, despite calling his name, and his eyes were clenched closed, as though in another nightmare.

I waited until this episode had passed. But this time I would demand an answer.

"Peeta, what is happening?" I asked once his eyes had opened. He looked at where we were, confused, as though he did not know why we were here. He stepped forward and staggered, and I rushed to catch him.

"Peeta!"

His skin was cold again, and the worry burrowed deeper in my belly. I sat him down and he leaned against the column. I took his hands and rubbed them between my own for warmth.

"Are they the memories again?" I asked once more, this time turning his face towards me.

He nodded.

"What did you see?" He shook his head. "The same, mere fragments. Disjointed and without sense."

Before I could ask what we were to do with these, Peeta stood up, bracing his arm against the column. Whatever he had seen had drained his strength. I had never seen him like this, worse than the one when we were in bed.

"Let's go. I will confer with my brothers once we're there."

We walked in uneasy silence this time. I had to adjust my eyes to the blinding sunlight once we were outside again. This time, we were at a narrower garden, bisected by a tumble of marble steps and flanked by plump hedges with thorny leaves. Gentle birdsongs were everywhere, and the ripened scent of pears and apples drifted by my nose. The wind danced by my skin, sending silky petals from the ground to play by the hem of my dress. And down at the end of the stairs stood another structure, like the temple of my city, but this time it was made of gold.

"Where are we, Peeta?" I asked as he led me down the steps.

"Olympus, of course," he teased, his earlier troubles ignored.

"Where exactly in Olympus?" I asked again, after I swatted his arm playfully.

"At my brother, the god of the sky's palace. He and his wife, the queen, wish to welcome you here. The other deities have already arrived before us."

The last of his words were ignored as a sprite, like a tiny nymph with wings, emerged from one of the hedges and sailed past me. I gasped in delight as I felt the flutter of its wings by my cheeks.

"It's beautiful here, Peeta," I said, turning towards him.

"Your father made the gardens here, together with the goddess of marriage and the goddess of love. I asked him for help when I built your place."

I plucked a purple flower from the hedge and inhaled its sweet scent. As soon as I did, I noticed more blooms emerging and unfolding their petals all around me, a sea of scarlet and pale violet, punctured by tiny green leaves and deep yellow flowers.

"They respond to you," Peeta said, awe quite clear in his voice. "You are your father's daughter, after all. His child of spring."

"But why only now?" I asked, standing up. "The flowers in the Elysian Fields never opened for me before." I picked another bloom, and its colors became deeper and more saturated as I held it.

"Because you're my queen now," Peeta said. "Your innate powers are growing. It will strengthen once I've crowned you."

I said nothing in reply, remembering once again the price for this gift. But instead of dwelling on its sad meaning, I smiled at Peeta and took his arm, and he led me down the path again. When we arrived at the golden palace, I had a bouquet of silky flowers reposing in my arms that I had picked along the way.

We entered, and this was smaller than the ivory one, immediately opening to a great hall full of people. They hushed into a collective silence, but my eyes were trained to the group at the opposite end, the ones in their armors and gowns, the other gods and goddesses.

And at an elevated dais was the throne of the god of the sky and his queen. A level below, two pairs of equally shining thrones flanked the ones occupied by the reigning deities. The god of the sea, heir of the trident, along with his queen, occupied one pair. I surmised the other pair must be for Peeta, and now myself, whenever we would visit Olympus. It never occurred to me how the brothers divided their powers, as I had never seen more than Peeta's adamantine throne. But then again, they seldom visited the underworld.

My heart began to race as we drew nearer. I remembered the stories at the amphitheater, of the mortal lover of the god of the sky who became incinerated when she laid eyes on his true form. A part of me still felt like a stranger, an intruder into all this. Not a full deity like Peeta and my father and the others, but not mortal either that I would be denied passage.

Peeta began to introduce me, and it was all a blur. Cool hands that were hardened like rocks touched mine, pressed against my bouquet, until a servant came by to take the flowers from me. There was a ringing in my ear as my heart continued its galloping pace. The gods and goddesses all offered a small bow at their introduction. I tried hard to remember to match the titles to the faces. The goddess of the hunt and her twin, the god of light, both had a head of blonde hair. The god of war had strange markings on his dark beard. The goddess of love offered a trilling welcome and I was overcome by the powdery scent that wafted from her. The god of fire skulked behind her. The god of wine was a plump man not much taller than me, with small beady eyes, who came forward to give his welcome. The goddess of wisdom gave me a small wink as we passed to greet her, and I was glad to see a friend.

My father was near the steps that led up to the thrones, and he gathered me into a warm embrace, and I sighed deeply, finally finding a familiar comfort. His pride shone in his eyes and in his smile as I pulled back to kiss him on both cheeks.

Then Peeta introduced his brothers and their wives.

The god of the sea, with his fire-kissed hair, smiled politely while his queen made a curt bow of acknowledgment. The god of the sky was stoic, meeting my gaze with his steely gray eyes, while the goddess of marriage regarded me with a smirk, as though she were amused, her golden circlet glinting against her dark hair.

After the polite words had been exchanged, I turned and saw that the rest of the deities had started mingling and I could smell the sweet scent of ambrosia and lotuses, hear the chime of goblets around the amphitheater. The goddess of wisdom ascended the stairs and took my hand, saying something about hunting skills she wished to teach me so we could have more things to do together. I smiled with thanks at her invitation, turning to Peeta, but I saw that he had already taken his brothers into conference, no doubt about his unusual visions. I did not want to disturb. Once deep in the crowd, the other deities swooped around me, asking questions, offering me refreshments and small fruits. I obliged their questions as much as I could, until my golden haired friend cleared her throat to save me from further fawning. I excused myself and I followed the goddess of wisdom out the other side, down long marble steps and into a spacious expansion.

She led me to the center. Farther on I saw targets of varying distance, and when I looked down I saw weapons laid before me. I looked up to the goddess of wisdom, the question on my lips, but she beat me to it, muttering, "You've perhaps had enough lotuses and perfume and I thought to return you to sanity," she said.

"I thought I might introduce you to my preferred method of fun," she added with a smile, and waved her hand with a flourish at the objects by my feet.

I looked at the weapons again. Swords. Lances. Daggers. A bow and a sheaf of arrows. Knives.

"You kill one another for fun?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes and picked up a knife, the weapon whirling around her expert hand with ease before she drew her arm swiftly back and threw it at a target in the distance. I swallowed after it hit the nearest target with impressive speed. There was a ruthlessness simmering underneath her beautiful blonde curls and I was reminded of the stories in the mortal world once again, that these beings were gods, neither kind nor cruel, but also beings of immense strength and abilities.

"Your turn," she said, with a smile.

I did not move. I looked skeptically at her, gauging whether she said it in jest or not. Even though there was no one looking, I felt terribly conscious of my lack of ability. I had never handled a knife beyond skinning a fowl for our meal. But I also did not want to disappoint her by not trying. She had been a good friend to me, and had made my time amongst the immortals enjoyable.

I picked up a knife shorter than what she'd used, thinking less weight should equal less difficulty. I did not bother twirling it like she did, or my ineptitude would have been painfully evident. I chose a target and visualized the knife's path, and I threw the knife with more force than I expected, my body surging forward on my leg to hurl it across the garden, landing just beside the knife of the goddess of wisdom, but falling to the ground because it had not embedded properly.

My face fell, but I thought it was not too bad.

The goddess of wisdom clapped and handed me another knife to practice with, ignoring my dismal first try. She demonstrated the proper form to take, the stance, how to hold the knife. She threw more knives as examples for me to learn from.

The next tries were decent. I hit some of the targets she pointed me to. But with more tries, my aim improved, until one time, I hit the space beside her knife on one of the farther targets.

The satisfaction rushed to me, and in that instant, I felt different, felt more powerful at what I had accomplished, thinking back to what Peeta had told me about my abilities increasing. Perhaps that was it.

But of course, my newfound confidence was not exactly infallible. I was hopeless with the lance, the long weapon falling to the ground before reaching its target. I knew the goddess of wisdom was suppressing a laugh after my sixth attempt. I gritted my teeth and threw another knife, aiming beside hers at the second farthest target, just to recover a bit of respect.

She rolled her eyes and laughed, walking back from one of the targets "Well, now we know never to give you a lance during warfare," she said. Then she walked up to me and handed me the bow and an arrow. She taught me how to hold the bow, how to secure the arrow within my fingers, and how to nock it to the bowstring.

When she was satisfied with my form, she stepped back, and I noticed that the targets had changed. The knives were no longer embedded, only small holes were left behind on the rough canvas. She chose my mark for me, and my arms pulled back the arrow with surprising ease. Breathing in, I felt something course through me, an assured yet quiet strength, as I focused and aimed. I breathed in, then out, then I let the taut bowstring loose. The arrow flew swiftly through the calm air, slicing cleanly before embedding itself into the center of my target.

Before I could savor my small triumph, I felt another arrow pushed gently into my hand, heard another whispered instruction by the goddess to my ear, saw another chosen target. I positioned the arrow slowly, making sure everything felt right. I did not want my mentor to be disappointed. The arrows found their targets with precision and ease, surprising me. But it gave me a sense of accomplishment and pride at my unearthed archery abilities.

After we had dispensed with all of the arrows, with all the chosen targets marked, I dropped my bow in amazement at what I had done, at what I had previously not known myself capable of doing. I remembered Peeta's words about how, as his queen, my gifts were bound to increase as I received the powers of the underworld. I was pleased at the sight of all the embedded arrows, like a bouquet of sticks and feathers stuck to the canvas.

At the thought of Peeta, I arched my neck to look up, feeling someone observing me. And they were there, high up in the palace, observing me, indeed: Peeta, his two brothers, and the god of light. The god of the sky glared at me, his stormy eyes like hard flint. The god of the sea looked on with a sense of puzzlement tempered by a haughty furrow of his bronzed eyebrows. The god of light had a resigned acceptance to his eyes, as if he had seen this all before. Yet it was Peeta's expression that concerned me. I felt the turmoil in his gaze, the rigidity in his jaw, as though I was that foolish woman Pandora and I had unleashed the horrors into the world.

Peeta watched as Katniss pulled arrow after arrow, getting infinitesimally better with every nock and aim, her arms adapting to the rhythm and strength required. And he felt the simmering of his brother's anger, the god of the sky, beside him. On his other side, the incredulity of his other brother, the god of the sea. They watched as, exhausted, Katniss dropped the bow and arrow to her feet, and wiped the sheen of sweat on her forehead.

They were seeing what the god of light had shown them in his pool of visions, of his one retained vision that blocked all others, of Katniss standing with weapons at her feet. What it meant, they still had yet to find out. And he knew it made his youngest brother restless. And prone to irrational actions and bursts of temper.

"So do you still wish to wait before we take action?" the god of the sky prompted.

But this time it was the god of the sea who replied in irritation, not him. "What action? We have nothing with which we can move forward. Nothing. Nothing. When will you grasp that?"

"Any action is better than waiting," the god of the sky bit back.

Peeta turned his cool gaze to his volatile brother. "And what will you do?" The challenge was in his voice. "Will you do something to my queen?"

His brother brooded, then replied. "We can round up all the immortals, question what they have been doing—"

"We're keeping the peace, not sparking a rebellion," the god of the sea spat disdainfully.

The god of light interjected. "Without my foresight, we cannot be certain of anything. This fear that we will sow if we do as you say might just harm us. I'm afraid there's nothing else to do but wait," he finished calmly.

The god of the sky stormed out of the balcony in disgust. He had always been a being of action, a ball of energy, never comfortable with idleness. Peeta knew his other brother, usually calm, was also feeling the burden. The god of the sea left quietly. He knew of the meetings his two other brothers made, talking of possibilities, of what could happen as they stumbled towards the future blind and bereft of the god of light's gifts. And their fears were justified. He and his brothers, after their victory over the Titans, had arranged the order of the world and had remained unchallenged because of the gifts each deity brought to the collective.

But now everything was at an impasse. Or perhaps everything was fine. Or maybe they were already unraveling. A clammy feeling pooled at his belly.

Peeta had decided where to go when the god of light spoke. "And you're in the vision now, too, god of the dead."

Peeta stilled.

"While she stands with the weapons laid at her feet, you now stand behind her in my vision."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. But you two now stand in the way of my other visions. I cannot see past you both."

Peeta closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting the new knowledge wash over him. He knew why the god of light stayed behind, why he called the gathering in the first place. To tell him this, this possibly terrifying new information.

But Peeta was not one to indulge in anxieties and perplexed theories, unlike his brother the god of the sky. He thanked the god of light for his discretion, and went about his way.

While Katniss spent time with the goddess of wisdom and her immortal father, Peeta set his course to Tartarus.

The place was as bleak as before. The measureless cavern was still gray and cold and damp. When he reached the prison, his father stood by the gleaming bars, waiting for him.

"Do you have a hand in what's about to happen?" Peeta asked his father bluntly.

"I missed you too my dear son," the Titan of Time and Ages replied, clearly enjoying his consternation.

Peeta straightened his back and looked his father in the eye. "I have come prepared to give concessions in return for your cooperation."

"And are my other dear sons aware of your deals?" hissed his father.

"Of course not. It is my realm and I deal with matters here as I see fit."

The Titan smiled cruelly. "Ah, you learned that underhanded manipulation from me. Your mother was never one for dishonesty. But I'm afraid you are too late. You were already too late even before you were born."

"I am in no mood for your riddles—"

"It's not a riddle, foolish boy, but a prophecy. I had already told you before, the last time you were here. But you were distracted, apparently."

Peeta did not reply.

His father perked up considerably. "And you fear for her," his eyes gleamed. "Now that the god of light has lost his visions, you wander about like blind men, uncertain, and fearful, like children when the night conquers the day and they have to face the blackness of sleep. And you fear what will happen to her."

"Who informed you—"

"You, of course. You had never been difficult to read. And this prison never diminished our abilities."

Peeta glared at the Titan.

"Remember the prophecy. Relish it, as I would," his father continued. "Because it will be my salvation. The sun is setting on you and your brothers' reigns, as it set on mine, as it did with my father as well. There is no escape for you. That is the only answer I can give. But you should have known it, had you not been dulled by your sentiments."

And before Peeta could question him further, the Titan turned his back on him and retreated to the shadows, leaving him more disquieted. His mind thought of a thousand possibilities at once. What could the prophecy mean? They had no immortal children, no true heirs to usurp them.

There would be time to mull over his father's words, he thought, turning to leave Tartarus behind. But now it was time to take Katniss to the mortal realm to say her farewells.

"Do you know what I have learned while being imprisoned?" his father interrupted suddenly, as he was about to exit the cavernous hall, his voice echoing from the back of the prison. Peeta turned back to face him. Only his snow white hair gleaming from the distance marked him as the Titan of Time and Ages. "Patience. A maddening amount of it. So much that it comes to my mind like a fog, and I cannot feel anything else. And when I thought I have exhausted my energy and when despair has cornered me, patience helps me.

"I've played worse games than you and your brothers have. What's a few thousand years of rest before the old order resumes itself?"

Peeta looked coldly at the immortal behind the iron bars, the father who would kill his sons so he could hold power once more. He had never loathed anyone as much as he did that moment.

So be it, he thought. If it indeed came to a battle once more, he would have the pleasure of returning the courtesy to his father.

It was time to return to the mortal world, and my heart raced against my ribs, drenched in dread.

Peeta brooded the entire time we crossed the sea of Erebus that was between the underworld and the mortal one, high up in the air in his dark chariot. His mood had been darting between dour and distracted after our visit to Olympus, right up until now, on my last visit to the mortal world. Peeta insisted that I stay as long as I needed, to say my goodbyes, and have it be a clean severance so the wound never reopened.

I chose to stay first at my sister's cottage, on the other side of our city, west of the high mountain cliffs that the statue of the god of the dead straddled. The seaside here had boulders instead of sand, and I had to skip from one monstrous rock to another. I walked carefully, and jumped nimbly when needed. There were many families settled here, and I could hear the laughter of children. The sea, with its gentle song, calmed me. Its sound was home, having spent most of my life near it.

But my mind drifted again back to Peeta. I knew he was not disclosing everything to me. As I walked from one smooth rock to another, my mind, weary of being pulled from one realm to another, dreading what it would find once more, flitted to other matters that did not concern my family. I forced myself to look at the ships in the distance, with battered sails manipulated by leathery hands that smelled of fish. I listened to the chirp of small women talking over the bleat of their goats. I looked for the sun and sought its comforting warmth.

The boulders were replaced by pebbled sand the farther along I walked, then the pebbled sand was replaced by patches of flowering weeds, idly swaying in the wind that cooled the sweat on my back. Then I stood in Prim's home, and all the reasons why I had come back flooded my heart, and it beat more faintly inside my ribs in unhappiness. This was the cost of daydreaming; that abrupt return to the moment from which we wanted to escape.

It took a few knocks on the salt-battered door for it to swing open, revealing my sister, who was older yet again. I drank in her appearance, and to my surprise she was swollen with pregnancy. She'd grown to be the very image of our mother, the traces of our father having receded over the years.

"Katniss," she said, pulling me to her, and I feltl the hard bump of her stomach between us. I wrapped my arms around her, tighter than I would normally do because of the urgency I now felt. I breathed in her scent. I was determined to commit everything I did in this realm to memory. She introduced me to her sons as a distant cousin, but to her husband, the truth had been shared with him all those years ago, and he greeted me like a lost sister.

Prim was still the same, though changed in some ways. Her smile was still radiant, but the corners of her eyes now had faint lines that creased when she smiled. Her golden hair had dulled and faded with the strain of raising four sons and continuing the healing tradition passed down by our mother. I helped with the tasks of cooking and cleaning, as well as preparing the herbal poultices and oils, and I fell into their routine easily. The days languidly flowed into the night. The repetitiveness soothed my soul. I looked forward to every dusk, when my nephews and I would sit by the shore and look up as the sky slowly turned into a deepening black, drinking up the darkness spilling from the eastern horizon. Then in the morning, there were chores for the little ones, just as it had been when Prim and I were their age.

I was stalling my goodbyes, I knew. It was difficult, a burden on my taxed heart.

One afternoon, when her sons and husband were away to visit relatives in another city, and I had bottled the last of the oils to be sold at the market the following day, my sister felt a sharp pain on her womb. I panicked, unfamiliar with the sensations of pregnancy, but Prim told me to calm down, moving about the kitchen.

"It's just like you to worry," Prim said, as she steeped herbs in the water that had just boiled, and mixed it with honey as our afternoon drink. I told her not to bother, for I knew honey was expensive. But she waved it off, saying her times with me were always special.

"And it's very you to reject being fussed over," she added, smiling over the rim of the earthen cup, and recalled all the times I told our parents not to trade father's expensive vases for the better cuts of meat in the market. We talked more of her family, of her precious sons and her loving husband. And I could see how happy she was. It made everything I suffered worth it, for my sister to have lived, for her sons to have a mother as devoted as her. I willed my tears not to fall, not to interrupt her melodious voice as she recalled tale after tale of her life.

Another sharp pain forced her to stand, and I mirrored her action, hand outstretched to aid her.

I asked what I could do to help. Prim, her breathing labored, laid down on a straw mat and I sat beside her, gently placing her head in my lap, stroking her golden hair to help her with the pain.

"But I used to be jealous of you, Katniss," she confessed quietly after some time. There was pain in her eyes, as well as guilt.

"After the sacrifice, when mother did not want to rise from her tear soaked bed and father retreated into his pottery, I felt invisible to our parents, and my petulant self blamed you. You were gone, yet you were still everywhere. I missed you, yes, but I resented the disruption you caused, because we had been so happy. And I knew every time mother and father looked at me, they would remember you, and what you had to do for me. But almost immediately I would regret what I thought. Then it would flare once again when I had to throw away mother's food because she wouldn't eat. When I had to fold away father's cloak without him greeting me. I bore no chance against your ghost. I was torn inside, but I felt as though I deserved it, that everything had been my fault."

I only felt the tear drop on the back of my palm. My sister. My poor, sweet sister.

"Prim,"

But she held her hand up. "But then you came back. Do you remember that night, when I couldn't stop crying, apologizing to you?"

I nodded.

"I was so happy when you came back. It was a miracle, as though all the prayers I had burned at the temple had finally reached the gods. And that even though our time would be short, I could still see you, as if you had only moved to another island and there was always a storm preventing you from coming to us," she said, smiling. "I realized I had missed you so badly, but at least you were no longer completely lost to us. And from then on, I had always looked forward to the time you would come back."

My hands stopped stroking her hair at the weight of her revelations. I had never known how badly my sister had taken my absence. And it devastated me to have to tell her the purpose of my visit.

"Well I'm here now," I said shakily, my tears at the verge of my eyes once more.

"For a season?" she asked, referring to length of time of my previous visits.

"As long as I want this time," I promised her.

"But you're early though, it hasn't been that long since mother…"

"I know. There's a purpose to my visit, Prim." It was my turn to confess. But I sensed that she already knew. That was why she had told me what she did. Our hearts were still connected. And her eyes softened.

"This will be the last," she stated, knowing without asking.

I told her about Peeta, about accepting his proposal to be his queen.

"There's never enough time with you," Prim said, smiling sadly, shaking her head.

It was then that I had noticed my sister turning pale and her breaths coming irregularly. Her beautiful, milky face squinted in pain at another sharp stab coming from her womb.

"Katniss," she gritted. I felt something wet beneath me. I realized what was happening. My sister was about to give birth, here. My mind sprang up in action, what to do first, then next. I had accompanied my mother before when women had given birth and she was called upon to assist them. But it was so long ago, the memory punctuated with old screams and hazy details. I contemplated fetching a healer from the town, but I could not leave Prim alone. So I prayed, the first time in a long time since the Reaping, for any help. Anyone. My heart wished so hard for the gods to hear me.

I arranged her to make her as comfortable as possible, helping her on the bed. Prim's back arched as she winced again in pain. The hours dragged by and I felt helpless. I tried to prepare as best as I could. I boiled water, prepared sheets to catch her newborn, and the blanket to wrap my niece or nephew in. Another contraction surged through my sister as I prepared a tincture my mother used for pain. I prayed once more to the gods. The waves of pain rolled in and out of my sister, seemingly endless.

Then I heard a knock on the door.

A cloaked woman stood there, her face half hidden by her hood. The scent of apples filled the air and I remembered the same faint scent before, when Peeta brought me to Olympus to meet his brothers and their queens. This must be the goddess of marriage, lady of the sky. I felt relief crash into my heart as she entered the cottage, lowered her hood, and walked towards my laboring sister. Prim, delirious with pain, did not even ask who she was as the goddess produced a goblet from inside her robes and gave it to my sister to drink.

"For the baby," the goddess said, turning to me. I was surprised at her kind voice, remembering how haughty she was on Olympus. She trailed her hands over my sister's swollen belly, as if feeling where the baby was. Prim's faced relaxed and I wiped the sweat off her cheek. I sat behind her and she leaned back on me.

The goddess then went by the foot of the bed and pried Prim's legs apart gently.

"You will feel it soon, my child," her voice soft and soothing as she placed her hands against Prim's knees. "Then you need to push." The goddess's eyes met mine, as if to tell me to steel myself as well. My sister would need all our strength as she pushed a new life into the world.

She let out guttural cry at every push. She bore down and huffed and cried, each time crushing my hand in hers. I did not mind the pain. Then finally, she opened, like a flower, and my niece was born. The goddess pulled the slippery body from my sister, a dark rope still tethering daughter to mother. But something was wrong. My niece was not crying, not a whimper.

"How is she?" my sister asked, her voice faint from the effort.

The goddess rubbed the baby's chest, whispering soothing words, a chain of prayers. My heart felt like stone. No, she couldn't die, I thought.

The goddess of marriage kissed the tiny forehead, and soon, the small body began to awaken. It was a mewling at first, then I saw the small chest heave, then came the intake of breath and the cry, that joyous first cry filled the damp room. It had begun to rain outside. The goddess of marriage cleaned then wrapped the infant in a blanket and handed her to my sister, who promptly let her daughter suckle against her breast.

I looked down at the tiny, scrunched face, red from the effort of being born, and touched her soft head of hair, my heart filling with love. This tiny being, formed from the flesh of my sister and her husband, they themselves formed from their mothers and fathers and all their mothers and fathers before them, had inherited the astounding miracle of life, to be born from seemingly nothing, that very precious gift from the gods, and I smiled, reminded that there was goodness and beauty in this world.

Prim's family returned a week after she had given birth. She and my niece grew strong thanks to the herbs the goddess of marriage had left and ones I had made into a tincture.

I was to leave tomorrow, to bring the good news to our father who was too old to travel.

Before leaving, I held my sister for as long as I dared. I bent down to kiss the heads of my nephews as they clung to my arms and legs, beseeching me not to go. I told their tear-streaked faces that I would always watch over them, that every spring, they should look out for the hares and owls and deer I would send to play with them, so that they were reminded of me.

I stood up once more and looked at my sister, my dearest Prim. All our goodbyes had been stretched throughout all those seasons I came back, and there was no more left to say, for we knew, and had always known, how much we had loved each other.

I turned to leave, and never looked back.

I took the next ship with tattered sails when I reached the shore. It was the fastest way to our old home. I longed to finish everything already, my heart swollen with sadness and I felt as if I would burst from the pain, yet at the same time, I wanted time to slow down. As the cliffs of my father's home drew nearer, dread carved a home in my belly. I did not fear leaving them, but dreaded it. You fear the unknown, but you dread that which you cannot stop.

I alighted, the soft sea foam soaking the hem of my robes, and started the long walk on the sands to my home, the god of the dead's statue and the city he straddled were behind me.

This time I knew that I could not stay long, unlike with Prim. If I did, I would lose my nerve, my strength. I wanted to keep this brief.

Once at the top of the cliffs, I walked farther towards my father's pottery shop first. I was surprised to find it open. I stepped inside, joyful at seeing it filled with my father's apprentices, each young man and woman working on pottery at its different stages. The ache in my chest lifted a little. At least my father did not pass the days alone, and his trade was thriving. I had always worried about him, about his health after my mother had passed and Prim had her own family. I worried if he was eating right and sleeping enough, all the worries a daughter had for a father. I searched the shop but did not find him, so I proceeded towards our home.

I had not been back since my mother's death, and the home had lost some of its warmth. The lights from the candles did not burn as brightly anymore. I knocked twice on the sea-aged door, and proceeded inside. I found my father stooped over the dinner table, enjoying his simple dinner. Tears threatened to fall as I traced his frail form with my eyes, saw what age had wrought on to his body. His skin had darkened from the sun, his hair thin and limp, and when he turned, I saw that his eyes had gone cloudy.

I ran towards him immediately, and knelt at his feet, his hand touching my head for a blessing, then wrapped his bony arms around me. In my heart, I still felt the security in them, the same as when he soothed me from my nightmares as a child. His scent was a mix of paint and the sea.

"You came back, Katniss," my father said, his voice soft. "I'm so happy to see you once more. I did not dare hope for this, but I prayed to the gods that I could see you again."

I stood and looked down at my father's kind face, willing my tears not to fall. My strong, independent, loving father. He, who had given my mother, my sister, and myself everything he could give, his kindness and his skill, his whole life devoted to us. It pained me to see the twilight of his life, but I was helpless to stop time from moving endlessly forward. It never stopped for anyone, and at the most, I could only try to resist its current.

"Hello, father. I've missed you," I said, my simple words conveying the sadness I couldn't spill.

Like Prim, he had deduced that the timing of my visit was unusual. I explained that this would be the last I came up to the mortal world.

"I had to see you, both you and Prim, one last time," I said.

My father smiled ruefully, his hand coming up to my face. "I knew this day would come.

Though I had prayed to the gods for your last visit to not be the final one, I had been prepared. I have always been, it seems. When you sacrificed yourself for your sister, I had let you go then. But I had never stopped loving you. Never."

"I'm sorry. I bring nothing but tears and goodbyes and a reminder of the pain you suffered."

"Oh, Katniss, you don't need to apologize. You never bring me pain when you come back. It is always joyful to see you, as if you've come back to life, like I have woken into the sweetest dream. I learned that if you look at life as the in-between of being born and dying, of merely passing time until we die, then your heart will turn to stone in bitterness, and I refuse to live like that, and so should you. You are not a reminder of the farewells we've had. You are a reminder of all the love I have given while in this world, all the good things I had, the happiness I have felt, for you are my miracle, Katniss. Whatever the fates have for us can never change this.

So, go. And don't feel burdened by sadness, my love. We will see each other again. You remember the song your mother sang to you and your sister when you could not sleep? About the bird and the leaf who found each other in spring, formed a friendship in the summer, but the bird flew away in autumn and returned to a barren tree in winter. Yet the bird knew the leaf would return in the spring. You remember that, Katniss. Keep it in your heart. We will see each other again, my child. I promise."

I cried as my father held me. He held me as the sun dipped into the sea and the wind cooled our skin. The moments, these moments, were unbearable. They were heavy, like boulders in my chest. But I had to choose the moment to go. I pulled back and looked into my father's aged face for the last time.

"Be free," he said. He wiped the lone tear that fell. "Go," my father gently urged.

So I turned and hurried down the cliff. I ran in the sand. I ran and ran, far away from my home, until my legs burned from exhaustion. My heart hurt. The wounds flamed more when inflicted deliberately. I rounded a cove, dazed from the pain. I crumpled down to the sand, enveloped by a fog. I laid there, unmoving, unwilling to do anything. I unburdened myself of tears, with the starless sky as my witness. Time flowed, and I laid there still.

Then through the fog, I heard a scream.

I knew I was far away from the city, so I did not heed it. Maybe it would go away. I wanted to be alone. I wanted the sorrow to go. I wanted to see Peeta and my family. I wanted so many things I could not have. Then the scream became louder, more hoarse and pitiful. Something tugged at my exhausted heart. I followed the sound, up jagged, rocky steps and into a forest clearing. I smelled smoke and heard chanting, the low, repetitive gurgling of words and sound. My eyes adjusted to the bright flame in the middle, to a priest with a filthy cloak and a rusty dagger. I saw a child, with golden hair, tied to a pole. Pleading. Crying. Her wrists were bloodied. I saw a girl just like Prim once was. And I rushed through the clearing, tearing at the ropes that bound her. I joined her screams, but mine pleaded to take her place, to save her. The priest's followers, maddened with the sweet smoke, surrounded me. A rock hit my temple just as I had freed the girl, and I watched her run out of the chaos, just before the darkness came and I welcomed this darkness, this escape. The girl was safe. Safe and free.

When I woke, my arms ached and they were above my head. I was suspended over the sea, facing the heathens. The daylight was breaking through the horizon yet the fog was everywhere. The smoke played with my senses. I drifted in and out of sleep, in and out of the chanting. It was as though I was back to the reaping.

Then there were screams again. When I opened my eyes, the fog was gone. Instead I saw a sea of blue flames, much like the ones Peeta was surrounded with in the underworld. My eyes closed involuntarily from the acidic smoke as I heard more screams and smelled charred flesh. I coughed as the putrid scent flowed around me. I opened my eyes, watery because of the smoke and I saw Peeta, afar, in his full palladium armor standing over charred, writhing bodies. From the tight cords on his neck to the grim set of his squared jaw, I knew he was murderously angry. The heathens were unable to run as he incinerated them slowly. The crackling skin flayed from the sinew as it burned. I felt frightened of him as I saw the full display of his ruthlessness. The smoke still choked me. The cries of agony filled the morning like a horrid song, and I could not breathe, and the darkness called again. The last thing I saw were those angry blue eyes trained on me.

When I woke again, I was no longer at the cliff but in a small cottage. The sea was still nearby and the moon was high again. I sat up. Across the room was the god of the dead.

"What were you doing?" Peeta furiously spat every word.

I eyed him warily, holding my tongue.

Peeta strode over to me. "What were you thinking?" he hissed angrily.

I looked up at him, defiant. "I saved that girl from a brutal death because you barbaric gods always need a sacrifice."

"You do not meddle with fate, Katniss. You do not control the ways of the world."

"So I was supposed to do nothing?"

"You're grieving," he said, touching the side of my face, his voice suddenly tender. "You're angry. If you blame me in any way, I understand. But you shouldn't make hasty, reckless decisions that endanger you."

"It's not like they could truly hurt me," I countered, facing away.

And Peeta flared again, banging his fist against the wall. "Is that the point here, Katniss?" he roared.

"Do you think death is the worst they can do to you? Do you think yourself inviolable? I've seen the minds of men like them, and I've sent them to the pits of Tartarus because they deserved to burn in chains. If I had been a second too late," he said, trailing off and leaving the unspeakable truth that I also knew. "They would have used you, worse than a common whore."

"But you weren't too late," I chided. Somewhere in my mind, my heart, I knew Peeta would have come for me, that he would not have left me to regret my brash actions, that he would pull me from this dark madness slowly swallowing me.

I looked sullenly at him, daring him to be angrier, suddenly blaming everything on him. It all came back to him, everything started because of that sacrifice he imposed on his followers, because my sister was too pure for this world, because I loved her too much to see her die, because now I'd come to love him too and I now flitted from cage to cage, shuttling between realms, like a bird. Because it had now come to a choice between him and the life I left behind.

But it was as if a wall of ice had erupted between us at what I said, at what I silently implied. Peeta squared his shoulders and looked at me piercingly. I bravely held my gaze. I understood why he was angry at me, and I wish he could read my mind and see why I was angry at him. I welcomed the hot emotion coursing through. Anything but grief was welcome. I felt alive again.

"Are we going back now?" I asked.

He breathed heavily. "No. I can't stand the sight of you at this moment." He stormed out the door. I heard the gallop of his horses as they flew towards the dark sky. And I was alone, shaken at the quickness of what had transpired.

I took a few breaths to calm myself. I massaged my wrists where there were welts from the rope. I looked around the cottage. It was empty save for the small bed I rested on. I felt drained from everything. I thought of going for a walk. I wanted to feel the wind, see the stars pinned against the inky sky. But I chose to curl back into the bed again. The days had been exhausting. I wanted to do nothing. I wanted no one with me. I wanted silence and solitude. I breathed in and out, in and out, the rhythm causing me to fall to sleep.

It was still dark when I had awoken again from a shallow sleep. And everything that had happened filled my thoughts once more. But instead of anger, I just felt exhaustion. And guilt.

I needed to see Peeta.

I looked outside the crude window of the cottage to see him standing by the cliff, his back to me. It did not surprise me to see him again, to see him come back to me, and my guilt over what had transpired doubled.

I walked out of the cottage and approached the god of dead. The moonlight rendered his hair almost a golden white. From his rigid stance, I knew he was still furious. But it softened my heart to know that despite that, he still returned to me. He no longer had his full armor, only the palladium body plates and his arms were bare. His dark cape billowed in the singing night wind.

He continued to look towards the sea even after I reached him. I stayed behind him, first touching his dark cape. Then I touched his arm gently, fearing that he might angrily withdraw.

"Katniss," his voice was gentle, with none of the reproach that flowed through us earlier.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Katniss, I cannot always protect you, not when you go out seeking danger."

I wrapped my arms around him, my forehead resting on the plates between his shoulder blades. "I know. I'm sorry."

I felt his head turn towards me as he took my hand and brought it to his lips.

Finally, he faced me.

I saw the echoes of the worry he had felt earlier, still etched on his handsome face.

I brought my hand to his face, and leaned in to kiss him, to seal my earlier apology, to tell him I understood. My forefinger softly moved over his cheek as I deepened our kiss. He pulled me closer as our lips opened, our tongues meeting, dancing, caressing.

I felt the heat from his body, mingling with mine.

His eyes were hazy when we broke the kiss, and without looking away, I slipped my robe from my shoulders. He continued to look at me lovingly as the dress fell to my feet, and I was bare before him.

"We don't have to," he said, cautious.

"I want to," I assured him. I needed him, almost unbearably.

I reached to remove his cape, and he sought to help me, but I guided his hand away. I wanted to undress him by myself.

And he let me.

I removed all of his heavy armor. I kneeled to lay them on the ground. He kneeled as well, taking his cape to set it open on the grass.

I let my eyes rove his body, from his neck to his chest, admiring the hard planes of his stomach, my hands following the trail left by my eyes. Power rippled beneath his muscles. I felt him breathing heavily.

"What else does my queen desire?" Peeta asked, his voice deep and saturated with desire.

I bit my lip in hesitation, wondering how I could possible phrase all the desires that fought within me, starting with the heat pooling at my center.

Peeta moved in to trail soft kisses down my neck. I felt his strong hand cup my breast and I closed my eyes at the unfamiliar yet sweet sensation.

"Tell me," he commanded.

"The one you did before," I confessed, remembering how his fingers danced inside me, at that sweet apex of my being.

"This one?" he teased, his finger tracing a slick trail in my center. I moaned in response.

"I have a better idea," he teased.

His lips made a slow pilgrimage down my body, and I leaned back to give him better access, until I was lying down on his cape, and his head was between my thighs. My mind was now in a haze. My heart galloped in my chest in anticipation.

He kissed me, there, at my pulsing center. "Is this where you ache?" he asked. My fingers wrapped against his hair as he kissed me there again, this time opening my folds and tracing his tongue up and down.

I was breathing heavily as he continued his heavenly assault, only mildly aware of Peeta's other actions on my body. He raised my legs and they fell over his shoulders, giving him an easier path. I arched as the pleasure built and raced through every nerve in my body. The heat glowed, and it buried deep, starting a fire, that glorious fire I knew would soon engulf me.

I opened my eyes and looked at Peeta, only to find him staring piercingly at me as he slowly consumed my sanity. I let out a cry as he found my pearl, that center of pleasure. He nipped, then kissed. Tongue. Teeth. Tongue. And nothing stopped me as I gave in. I climbed and climbed, until my body reached that blessed peak, arching and shouting.

I was only dimly aware of Peeta kneeling as I descended from that glorious eruption, my whole body now supine on the ground.

He kneeled before me, and I saw how much he wanted me. He was thick and throbbing. I watched in hunger as he stroked himself, once, twice, readying himself.

I opened myself willingly, pulling my knees back, and I saw Peeta greedily eye my glistening center. His eyes roved all over my body.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

His melodious voice made my ache burst anew. I needed him now. The fires were starting again.

"Peeta," I pleaded.

He positioned himself, and I readied for that sweet ache, but I only felt full as he slid into me. His hand cupped my face tenderly, as if asking if I were alright. I pressed myself to him in response, eager for where I knew he would bring me, willing no trace of skin exposed.

Peeta started to rock in and out of me slowly, letting me get used to the new sensations. He built a pace that was maddeningly sweet, in and out, in and out, and a different pleasure hit me. Stronger than before, primordial and unstoppable.

I breathed in, arching my body to accommodate the surge of sweetness. Then the borders of my being collapsed under Peeta's actions, becoming only a being of senses, of pleasure. Peeta increased the rhythm of his thrusts, and I moaned my approval loudly. I vaguely saw him smile at my action, a feral smile as he drove deeper in me and I felt myself shatter again.

But Peeta didn't stop.

He built and built and tore me down again and again, making love deeply, branding my very soul.

But I wanted to do something for him. I remembered a conversation with the other goddesses, ones that made me blush then, but I was thankful for them now.

I timed my movement, then used what remained of my strength to push Peeta, then rolled him under me. It seemed he read my mind because he was ready for the change.

Now, I sat astride him, feeling his lengthy shaft erect in me, filling me where I didn't know I could be filled. We were both breathing heavily.

"You should have just said what you wanted," he smirked, his eyes crinkling in mischief. I leaned forward and kissed him, our tongues sliding into each other's mouths. His hands gripped my hips, and I felt his eagerness to return to our carnal dance. I broke the kiss and slid back up, planting my hands firmly on his chest. I was a little unsure what to do, but Peeta assuaged my fears, drawing lazy shapes on my skin to keep the fires alive, and moved his hips to teach me how to move. I caught on, tentatively rocking my own hips, until I had mimicked the sensations he had inspired in me. He reached up and sucked my nipple, worshiping one breast then the other as I grew more confident and we were back to that maddening rhythm of pleasure. I leaned back and placed my hands above his knee, his thighs cords of muscle beneath me.

There was an addictive power in what we did and I embraced it fully, riding him, riding towards the peak of another mountain of pleasure. And I could see Peeta meeting me there. He held me tightly, our bodies in a frenzy, and I saw him reach completion beneath me, his motions erratic in surrender, his deep grunts yielding to the night wind, and I reached mine as well, shouting my sweet release to the open sky.

I was still on top of Peeta when my eyes opened slowly. His cape was now draped around me. I must have dozed off, and the sky was lightening, the darkness receding to the west. I propped myself up, and looked down on Peeta's handsome face, his head resting on an arm propped behind. His eyes were a clear blue in the morning rays, and I observed him again. I loved to do it whenever we were close. I lovingly trace his aquiline nose, his perfect jaw with a finger as I inhaled the smell of dewy grass around us, only noticing other elements now. I had been so taken with Peeta, the powerful emotions and pleasure he had inspired in me had blocked everything else. We were in our own secret world, a place only of beauty. I heard the rustle of a bird's wings taking flight, but my eyes never left Peeta. I was swept away by his simple perfection, the symmetry, his angles. I was awed by what we had reached, and I felt my heart waking up.

I planted a kiss on his neck, then up to his chin, then on his lips, tasting him.

He smiled at me after I pulled away.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?" I asked.

"For everything."

"But isn't this what people in love do?"

A flicker in his eyes told me he had caught on to what I had wanted to say. I let go of the other words in my mind and just said it simply. I swept his hair back up to his forehead and I met his tender gaze.

"I love you, Peeta. Truly. Completely," I said.

"As I love you," he replied, and the radiant smile he gave me left me breathless.

"Take me home," I said.

My meaning was clear.

He raised his head and nodded, then he kissed me softly. He and I, we were inexorably linked.

It was time to start our new life. Together.