A Forever Promise

"We have each other."

One year later…

I sit with my arms crossed on the sofa, legs stretched out on Peeta's lap. "What do you want to do today?" I ask nonchalantly. "You're not working today, right?"

"Right. Got Celandine and her sister to take over the bakery today," Peeta replies. "I was thinking we could go down to the lake."

"The one in the forest? We haven't been there in ages."

"Which is why I suggested we do so. We can have a picnic and everything."

"Sounds good," I tell Peeta.

"Do you want to head on over to the lake first? I'll need to stop by the bakery to get some goods and to see how everything's going."

I nod. Some quality alone time with myself is sometimes hard to find now.

So much has changed within the last few years. A name, a mere two words changed my life. Primrose Everdeen. Effie's words still ring in my ears. Later, it was a rose. A rose changed everything. And then after that, it was just one word, real.

I still have my nightmares, and Peeta has his flashbacks, but it's better now. We have each other. My nightmares, they still continue to haunt me in both daylight and nighttime, but to know there is someone else who understands, it comforts me, in a way. As for Peeta, I know how to help when he has a flashback. I know how to prevent them. Peeta, he still tries to pull away when he has them, but he always comes back in the end. Some promises were simply made to be broken.

When I approach the fence, a little girl shyly walks up to me.

"Are you Katniss Everdeen?" she asks, pulling on what seems to be a minature model of my braid.

"Yes, I am," I tell her, trying to be as nice as possible.

"My mommy says you a brave girl. She says you saved us," she tells me.

"Tell your mommy I say thank you," I say.

She nods and runs away.

Am I really a hero? Am I really that brave? I never perceived myself as any of these things, despite what others have told me.

I open up the new gate in the fence. District 12 had the fence remodeled so it could never have electricity pulsing through it again. The gate was added on my request during the modeling, so I and the other hunters in the area could have easier access. It's not my sacred spot that used to only belong to my father and me now, but it was for the better.

I take the three-quarter mile trek down to the lake. District 12 has changed so much, yet the forest has remained nearly the same. The same chittering birds, the same green forestry, the same fresh smell of rain is still here. Some things will always stay with you.

The surroundings at the lake are serene. I watch the fish swim, and the ducks bob for scurrying minnows and katnisses. I reminiscence of the times when my father and I used to come down here to fish. Before, I would look back sadly, longing for the comfort of my father, but now, I look back with more of a sense of pride, happy that I had chance to do so.

Loud footsteps and the crackles of leaves snap me from my thoughts. There's only one person who walks that loud. I smile to myself.

Peeta stumbles over, with a picnic basket looped over his arm. He plops down on a rock besides me. "Look what I brought for you," he says, grinning.

I peek into the basket, finding two cheesebuns, a loaf of bread, a new jar of homemade strawberry jam, and a plethora of strawberries. "You spoil me," I whisper to Peeta.

"It's my pleasure," he replies.

We nibble on the cheesebuns, spread hefty amounts of jam onto slices of bread, and pop strawberries into each other's mouths. We chat about everything, the bakery's sales, the growth of Annie's son, the constant arrival of new neighbors. When we're done, he pulls out a piece of paper from his jacket.

"A letter?" I ask. "I haven't read one in nearly a year."

He nods. I slowly open the letter.

Dear Katniss,

Real or not real, you would marry me?

Love,

Peeta

I look up at Peeta, who holds a simple gold band in his hand, engraved with the word "Always."

Marriage, it was a topic that had haunted me since my father's death. My mother, who had been happily in love since she met my father, had been torn apart by the death of her partner. I swore to myself that I would never become her, that I would always stay strong by living a romance-free life. I never understood the prospect of marriage. Why would the simple act of a paper and a few signatures impact the relationship one was in? I always thought that if a couple was truly in love, they would stay committed by the simple act of love, not by an elaborate wedding or a paper.

I understand now, in just a mere matter of seconds. Love stretches to all boundaries, and marriage can only define that. My mother, broken by my father's death, could not accept the fact that life goes on, even after death. I accept Peeta's offer, knowing one day we will be split apart, on our will or not.

"Real," I tell Peeta, reaching out for his hands.

He simply smiles, too overcome with joy.

Twenty years later…

"Mama, Mama," she shouts from the side of the house. "Look, I'm starting to bloom!

I rush over to my now five-year old daughter. She points to the primroses on the side of the house, buds beginning to open. I look over at her. She flashes a grin back at me. All these years, and the primroses Peeta once planted are still here. My daughter, Primrose, is here too.

I lead her back to the house, telling her that soon enough, the buds will bloom, and the primroses will grow big and strong. "Just like you," I say.

In the house, Peeta and Haymitch chat about the geese Haymitch continues to raise. "Grandpa Haymitch!" Prim shouts, twirling a piece of her chocolate-brown hair, which she inherited from me. "The primroses are starting to bloom, and Mama says soon enough they'll get really big!"

He smiles. "They will, and then we can pick them."

As Prim turns away to share the news with her younger brother, a mere age of two, Haymitch mutters, "So now I'm the grandpa. I didn't realize I was that old."

Peeta chuckles. "Face it, old man." Haymitch gives him one of his famous scowls.

Who knew that one day I would grow up to have a husband and two children? If I had been told of my life when I was sixteen, I wouldn't have believed it. I would have scowled and said to feed another poor girl a lie.

Life goes on. We still mourn the deaths of those lost in the Rebellion, but I have learned that I cannot spend my life fixing mistakes that have already been made. There is not enough time in this world to linger.

I am still the young sixteen-year-old girl inside, burning with anger and fear. I have learned to control it. Peeta is still the kind yet bashful person the Capitol carefully designed. Haymitch is still the alcoholic who barely drags himself over to the kitchen for food. Everything is the same, yet everything has changed.

A/N: Thank you for reading. It has been an amazing journey. Seventy pages on word, about thirty-three thousand words, fourty one chapters. This story has come a long way. My prequel to this story will come out very soon, hopefully next week, so I highly recommend putting me on author alert, or at least checking out my profile for updates. I am working on a few other projects, most of them being Hunger Games stories, so I would appreciate that my readers would check them out. Again, thank you. I couldn't have asked for better readers.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or any of the copyrighted material associated with it.