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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Blackberry Winters.

PART 1 🌸 PART 2

Namjoon Werewolf Au!!

Pack Head Alpha Namjoon and mate OC!

Arranged marriage sort of?

Pack dynamics / strangers to lovers.

Part 3

“You did not think to tell him no? To demand that you had every right to stay there?” Her mother in law looked disappointed , eyes trained on her as Jiah carefully pulled the blouse of the tunic down over her tummy, frowning when she realized that it didn’t do a thing for her figure.

She felt self conscious, the grey cotton of the tunic making her feel drab and lifeless. Why did she always choose clothes in colors like this? Why did none of them fit her right? Why did she never make an effort to look at least a little good. Her hair was limp, a mousy brown and while it was thick, it had no luster… Why didn’t she use one of the hundred powdered mixtures the village healer liked to give the younger women?

“Jiah, are you listening to me?” Namjoon’s mother said sharply and Jiah jumped a bit, guilty.

“I didn’t want to be a bother..” She said nervously, not sure how to handle her mother in law. On the one hand she seemed to be understanding of her many hang ups, but she also looked impatient and upset, anytime Jiah failed to stand up for herself.

Lady Kim drew herself up to her impressive height and Jiah cowered. She’d hung around enough pack bonfires to recognize that stance and that gaze. The woman was about to give her a piece of her mind.

Sure enough, her voice thundered when she addressed her.

“If you keep viewing yourself as a bother, I’m not sure how others will begin seeing you as anything else. You’re the head alpha’s mate. Your place is by his side, helping him with the crown on his head. It’s not a choice. Your duties are not mine and I am tired of doing them for you.” She snapped.

It stung. Guilt churned and Jiah could feel the beginnings of one of her episodes. The ones that always left her shaking and breathless. Much to her surprise, Lady Kim’s gaze softened at that and the next second she was being drawn into a warm embrace.

“Good lord child, why are you so terrified? Has my family not been kind enough to take away this stark terror out of your veins?” She sighed deeply. “You must not let your fears dictate your life. I want you to live your life, pleasing the person you’re bound to .”

Jiah felt her shoulders sag. Please the person she was bound to. Of course. Namjoon. It all came down to the alpha wolf. And how was she supposed to please him, if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her?

“Yourself.” Lady Kim’s voice, laced with amusement made her jump.

Jiah frowned, pulling back to look at the older woman in confusion.

“You’re bound only to yourself , Jiah. You need to please yourself. To do and be the person you want to be. And then everything else will fall into place.”

Jiah watched as the woman went back to the door, calling for and directing a few more workers as they finished setting up the outer courtyard of her living quarters. Still a little chilled, she grabbed a thick coat from the small cupboard by the door, draping it over herself and tying it together with the sash. She moved quickly to the door, watching her mother in law talk to the workers, looking them straight in the eye , firm and clear in her instructions.

It was fascinating.

Lady Kim’s stance fairly vibrated with power and her voice brooked no disobedience. People looked at her and listened. They saw someone who knew what she was talking about and many a time, Jiah had felt it herself, the comfort of someone reliable. Someone who wished no ill on anyone.

Namjoon’s mother had lost her husband at a young age. Namjoon had scarcely been a babe of two when it had happened and the entire pack had expected the young wolf to lose his birthright as the heir. It was unheard of for a mate to take over the head alpha’s duties but Lady Kim had risen to the occasion with an elegance that had stunned everyone. The woman had met pack leaders and settled disputes, had negotiated boundary conflicts and made elaborate plans for new buildings , all while carrying around a babe that was still fed at her breast.

What was more, she had defended her position against the men who had wanted to usurp it. Mnhyuk and Jaejoon were two of her husband’s cousins, eager to sink their fangs into the woman to mate her, just to be able to get their hands on the pack. They were terrible men , even worse wolves. Their ideas on how the pack ought to be run dripping with archaic ideals and oppression of women.

But Lady Kim had humiliated them, told the whole pack in no uncertain terms that the next pack alpha would be Kim Namjoon. Her son would be raised to rule the pack with kindness and understanding and she would make sure of it.

The tales were told with hushed tones of disbelief and admiration and Jiah had listened to them with hunger and aching. Had felt such a huge surge of affection for the matron , had wanted to hug her and tell her she had done a great job.

And standing here as her daughter in law, she realized that she would be a fool not to listen to her. Not to learn from her. Especially when it was obvious that in the entire pack, the only one who didn’t seem to hold Kim Namjoon on a pedestal, was ironically his own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They’re going to challenge you again. I can feel it.” Taehyung said gruffly, dropping the bundle of scrolls on the table and Namjoon flinched, head throbbing.

“That bad?” He asked hesitantly and Taehyung nodded.

“They want you to re-negotiate that treaty about courtesans owning property. Think it would make them quit the profession… if you let them own stuff” Seokjin said quietly and Namjoon bristled.

“They are no different from any of us. They work for their pay too. Why shouldn’t they be allowed to do what they wish with money that they’ve earned?” He demanded angrily.

“You’re a good man Namjoon. A fair one. And you’re striving to build a pack that treats all it members as equals . Obviously people who thrive on abusing their power aren’t going to like that. Especially Minhyuk and Jaejoon’s pups. Those two are terrible.”

“You should accept their challenge and just rip their throats out someday.” Taehyung said firmly AND Namjoon gave him a glare.

“I’m not going to shed blood without cause, Taehyung. Don’t suggest that. Even in passing.” He said firmly and the younger beta bowed politely in apology.

“Where is Jiah?” Seokjin asked casually.

Namjoon glanced at him, brows raised.

“Since when are you so familiar with my mate, hyung?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“She used to come sit with me, when I watched over the herds on the outer pastures. Sweet little thing really. Very funny too.”

That made Namjoon pause.

“Funny?” He asked, completely confused.

“Witty. She would make these clever little riddles and jokes that would always leave me in stitches. We made a game of it. I would give her one of my funny jokes and she would give me a riddle. Is she feeling better now?”

Namjoon who was still kind of struck dumb by the idea of his cowering, reticent mate doing something as…. Normal and friendly as laughing and being witty….. could only stare at Seokjin in confusion.

“I…. Yes. She’s well. We’re expecting a pup.” He said softly.

Both Taehyung and Seokjin went still.

“What?!!! Why didn’t you say that first?!!” Taehyung exclaimed, offended.

“It’s not that important…” Namjoon waved it off, reaching for the scrolls , “ what about the treaties, then? You did tell Jungkook we aren’t changing anything right?”

Seokjin scoffed.

“ Only you would say that these treaties are more important than your own pup.” He snapped.

Namjoon sighed a bit at that.

“I don’t mean that. I’m just saying, what she needs now is to rest and take care of herself and the baby. I’m not what she needs . I’ve arranged for her to stay in some private quarters with the other women.”

Seokjin sighed deeply. After years of being one of Namjoon’s trusted friends, he could feel his heart ache for the younger and all that he hid from the people around him. He reached out and gently placed a palm on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ Namjoon, you don’t have to do all of this by yourself. Tae and I , we can take over duties a couple of days a week… You can relax… Maybe spend some time with your new wife….”

“She hates me.” Namjoon said softly. “ I spent a whole month trying to talk to her, all she did was tremble and shake. Even when we…” Namjoon exhaled sharply, “ Even in bed , she made me feel like I was some kind of…. Predator.”

Taehyung bit his lips, looking worried.

“You’re not… You’re not going to break the bond are you?” He asked nervously.

Namjoon sighed.

“I’m not. I may have considered it, before . But now… She’s with pup. I can’t do that to her. I don’t want to either.”

“Why did you pick her?”

Namjoon stayed quiet.

“Because you wanted a wife who wouldn’t ask or demand or complain.” Taehyung said distastefully.

“That’s not… You make it sound so terrible. I’m supposed to be taking over pack duties, supposed to renegotiate every single treaty we’ve drawn in the past twenty years, not to mention get the entire pack ready for the winter…. Of course I wanted a wife who would adjust. Have you seen the omegas in our clan? The ones I could court ? They want to leave on trips… They want to visit the neighbouring packs…. They want me to arrange festivities and feasts for every damn thing…. You think I can marry someone like that??” Namjoon snapped angrily. “none of them understand a damn thing about helping me out. They’re shallow and vain. Jiah… I chose her because she didn’t seem like one of them. She seemed like she could understand what it means to be my wife. But I was wrong. I thought she understood my responsibilities and was giving me my space…. Turns out she just thinks I’m some kind of monster she needs to run and hide from.”

Seokjin reached out, patting his back soothingly.

“Namjoon I understand… It’s been hard on you, and you’ve been doing all of it by yourself. Its bound to take a toll. And that’s why I think you should take a few days off, a week. Give us all the instructions. We’ll carry it all out. You can relax.”

“That’s exactly what my uncles want. For me to slack off. They’ll summon the council and want to challenge me again. I can’t afford it. “ Namjoon shook his head.” Not until the babe is born and my position as pack alpha is solidified. I can’t let them use this against me.”

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“Joon-ah….”

Namjoon gave both of them a tired smile.

“I’ll be fine hyung. It’s going to be okay.” He said reassuringly. “ The council’s meeting tomorrow right? I’ll try to go over these tonight.”

“Its already past sundown.” Taehyung said worriedly.

“Then I better ask the maids to keep enough oil for the lamp to last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon blinked, staring at her like she was out of her mind and Jiah flinched. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. But the sight of him made something curl in the pit of her stomach. He looked exhausted. Like he had been up all night. She wondered if perhaps she ought to retreat. Go back to the private quarters he’d arranged for her.

No. No , you will not chicken out of this.

“ You have a council meeting, this evening. Could I come with you?.” She said softly, watching his face carefully. She tried to read his emotions, tried to look for traces of irritation or anger but all she found was a sort of hopeless resignment. Like he had stopped trying to fight whatever was bringing him down.

“Come with me….?? ” Namjoon stared at her like he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.

She inhaled sharply.

“Your mother told me I could go. As your mate, I’m allowed to sit in on council meetings. She told me it’s a new provision. That you were the one who had it written in. So perhaps, you should… let me come with you.”

“My mother-“ He paused, sighing. “ You don’t have to do everything my mother asks you to.”

She blinked, the words throwing her off. The truth was, she had been the one, tailing the older woman all day, trying to see what she did and how she did it. Lady Kim had merely offered to help her do her duties. She had mentioned in passing, that for centuries , mates hadn’t been granted many rights of their own. Namjoon had spent the past couple of years making a lot of amendments to pack laws and the council hadn’t taken to kindly to all of them.

“ Of course. I just thought that, as I am your mate , perhaps I should accompany you. ” It was a miracle, the way her voice came out, steady . Not at all betraying the nervousness coursing through her veins.

“Jiah…. I’m not sure.” His voice dripped with hesitation and she flinched. Oh, well, no one could blame her for not trying.

“If you don’t want me there, that’s fine.” She said quickly.” I’ll go…”

She turned around, feeling her face burn red as she quickly descended the stairs to the courtyard.

“Jiah wait!!” His voice made her still.

She turned around swiftly.

“I didn’t mean to imply that I did not want you there. I just….Council meetings aren’t short. They tend to go on for hours. Will you be alright?” He asked gently, gaze dropping surreptitiously to her middle.

It took her a minute to understand what he was even talking about.

“I… Oh.” She quickly pressed her palms to her stomach, confused. “ I mean… I may have to be excused a couple of times to relieve myself. I’ve been doing that way more often than usual.” She laughed.

Namjoon’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile and she flushed. Surely, her stern mate didn’t want to hear about her body functions? What was she even doing…

“But, yes. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you. Truly.” She said quickly.

Namjoon nodded.

“Well, then. You can come with me. It’s an hour before sundown… I’ll come fetch you myself.”

“Yes , alpha.” She said brightly, curtsying lightly and immediately feeling like a fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re called red feathers …” The healer, a middle aged woman called Selma, opened a small earthenware jar to show her the contents. Jiah peered into the jar, catching sight of a bundle of dried flowers and roots.

“These can help me…?” She asked dubiously and Selma gave a quiet chuckle.

“They help you sleep better and also help you relax. They’re good for you. You won’t feel this anxious if you take them regularly.” She said calmly.

“Oh… alright.” Jiah nodded, glancing carefully at her mother in law who was standing elsewhere, looking through an assortment of salves and tinctures. “ Can I…. is this safe for Namjoon?”

Lady Kim stilled, turning around to glance at her sharply and Jiah stiffened. God, her impulsive mouth. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. Just the whole , helps sleep better , had immediately reminded her of how tired Namjoon had looked.

“I’ve already tried to get him to drink some of it. He refuses.” Lady Kim said tiredly. “ He feels that it may affect his mental faculties”

“Auntie Selma?” A high, soft voice rang through the hut and Jiah glanced up. She went still, catching sight of Jisoo, dressed in red velvet and all of her ornate jewelry.

“Ah… Jisoo…you’re back.” Selma said cheerfully. “ How can I help you child?”

Jisoo stared at her, eyes steady and unreadable.

“I need some wild carrot seeds and ginger roots.” She said softly and Lady Kim scoffed.

“I hope the man you’re taking into your bed is not who I think it is , Jisoo.” She growled. The younger woman merely bowed.

“I’m but a courtesan, my lady. I go where I am asked to.” She said softly.

Lady Kim sighed.

“Then perhaps you should go back home. Now.” She said sharply and jisoo flushed and ugly red.

“Your son wants me to visit him for tea , this evening. I was hoping to meet my lovely lady there…but I hear you no longer stay in his hut.” Jisoo turned to her, tone dripping with acid and Jiah swallowed nervously.

“I… I’m…” She couldn’t quite talk, much less think of something to say.

“Because she is with child.” Lady Kim said sharply, a hint of triumph in her tone. “ Namjoon’s child.”

Jisoo had gone paper white, her face pale and bloodless.

“What?” She whispered.

“It’s true. She carries my son’s heir. You know what that means, Jisoo. It means they are bound, for life. I like you. I respect your courage and admire your talents. You are beautiful and you deserve a mate of your own. Do not pursue my son.” Lady Kim said firmly.

Jisoo didn’t respond for a few seconds.

And then she bowed again .

“Like I said, my lady. I only go where I am called.” She said quietly.

She turned on her heels, stalking away and Jiah could only stare after her, heart pounding a bit at what had just happened. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much disquiet. She’d never had high hopes of fidelity from Namjoon. The entire village knew that Jisoo had been his paramour. But now that she had seen how dismissive the younger girl was of her, she felt the unaccountable urge to fight back. To stake her claim.

“You look pretty upset. Don’t let her bother you. Namjoon will not break his vows.” Lady Kim said quietly and Jiah gave her a soft smile, although her heart still raced. She remembered how pretty the girl had looked in all her brocades and velvets. She stared down at her own murky yellow dress. She couldn’t go to the council meeting, dressed worse than a courtesan. Couldn’t embarrass Namjoon like that.

“ My Lady….” She turned to her mother in law. The older woman hummed, returning to examining the shelves.

“What is it, child?”

“Can we stop at the seamstress’ hut on our way back?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever Namjoon had been expecting, as he knocked on his wife’s private quarters, it hadn’t been this.

He stared , or to be more accurate, gaped at his wife, completely thrown by her appearance.

She looked…. Cheerful.

That was the only word he could think of, taking in the warm yellow and green fabric of her gown, all with an abundance of ribbons and lace. She had also clearly made some effort to tame her hair.

Not a very successfully attempt, considering the dozen strands sticking out of her bun and curling over her bare neck and shoulders …..but an attempt nonetheless.

Which reminded him.

Why was her neck bare?

“I…. have you forgotten… part of your dress…?” He asked awkwardly, gaze trained on the pale, blemish less expanse of skin in front of him. Too much of it was on display he felt.

“Oh?” Jiah twirled about for a second, glancing at herself. “ Not at all, my alpha. This is how it is.”

Namjoon blinked.

“Right… the night is getting colder. Perhaps a shawl?” He suggested tactfully.

Jiah frowned, sticking a hand out of the door as though to the gauge the night air.

“Really? Feels quite warm to me.” She said thoughtfully.

“It may be cold for the baby.” He said quickly and that made her pause. She glanced back down at her tummy and he wondered what she expected to see, every time she did that.

“Perhaps you’re right alpha….let me be back.” She floated back into the hut and he sighed in relief when she reappeared with a white fleece shawl over her shoulders.

“Shall we go ?” She asked quietly and he hesitated before slowly offering her his arm. She gripped it lightly, and they began the short walk to the main village square where the council usually convened.

“You… You’re better adjusted to this place now?” He asked carefully, trying to find the girl he had taken to his bed. The terrified, nervous , trembling young girl.

Jiah didn’t respond at once.

“I… I’ve been drinking some of Selma’s potions. They help.” She said quietly and he frowned.

“Potions? Potions for what?”

“They help with my nerves. I get scared easily…imagine things ….” She trailed off nervously.” I’m very anxious by nature and it gets worse in a new place. With new people.”

Namjoon considered that carefully. That made sense. Perhaps, that was why she had been so odd.

“The potions help?” He asked carefully and she nodded.

“Yes…that and your mother.”

“My mother?”

“She’s very kind to me.”

Namjoon laughed a bit at that. In all the years he has had people talking to him about his mother, the word ‘kind ‘ had never come up.

“ I’m being honest….she has helped me adapt to this place. To see how things are run. I… I don’t want to be a bother. I want to pull my weight. In the pack. To help in any way I can…”

Namjoon felt a sudden unaccountable fondness bloom in his chest at the innocent words.

“ That’s very virtuous of you.” He said seriously and she flushed.

They didn’t say anything else, continuing the rest of the path in companionable silence Namjoon spotted the seven council members gathered around a blazing fire and lightly stepped closer to her.

“You can stay close to me. You don’t have to answer them. If they try to draw you into any controversial topic, just ignore them. I’ll handle it.” He said quickly.

Jiah gave him a wide eyed, nervous look but nodded quickly, fingers moving from his forearm to his palm , linking with his own and gripping tight.

“I’m here. You’re not alone.” She said quickly and it was ridiculous, how the words actually helped him relax just a little.

Taking a deep breath, he led her on to the meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : i thinks its about time i accepted that this is a full blown fic and not just a drabble. fuck my life.

Note : Red feathers are actually herbal medicines used as anti depressants. So this is just werewolf au equivalent of therapy.

#namjoon au #namjoon werewolf au #bts werewolf au #alpha namjoon #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts au #bts fics #bts fanfics

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stetervault · 3 years

Note

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

#rec list #teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fanfic rec #akielosrises #ask

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pain-in-the-butler · 3 years

Text

The time has come once again

The Bloodbath

“I’m simply one hell of a butler” says Sebastian as he starts cleaning as usual

Okay so Agni’s taking no prisoners

Work Nerd, Science Nerd, and Jock Nerd team up to form the Nerd Trifecta

Team One Brain Cell joins up with Phipps, who is quite possibly their only chance for survival

Ran-Mao remembers how Harcourt beat everyone in the unfortunately deleted round and said “Not in my backyard”

So far, everyone else has simply run away unscathed or grabbed a weapon they won’t use because the game doesn’t record weapons. Rip Tanaka

Day 1

Ran-Mao bringing the canon energy by adding a second weapon to her arsenal

Phipps somehow always turns into Team Dad during these, so I’m glad to see he’s finding time for his favorite hobbies

Undertaker up to his usual Sneaky Antics

It hasn’t even been twelve hours yet. Kind of impressive honestly

Considering Harcourt lost his mace, I’ll just assume the attack Grell “escaped” from was the vicious stabbing of his trim little schoolboy fingernails

Bad vibes

It appears that Lau also brought his canon game

Sebastian in the most recent chapters be like

I’ve actually never had this event come up before and it has to happen between two of the more innocent characters in the series;;;; god Lizzie you deserve better even in the Hunger Games Simulator

Where’s a Safety Nerd when you need one

What’s better than this? Guys bein dudes

This is probably what happened after Ciel left Weston

Sebastian will take care of this for ya, huh bud

Other events:

Agni practices his archery

Wolfram goes fishing

Othello finds a cave

Soma goes ‘splorin

Edward goes huntin

Day 1′s Deaths: Tanaka, Sieglinde, Lizzie, and Macmillan. Someday one of the ladies will win

Night 1

Butler slumber party in the woods, BYOYM (bring your own young master)

It takes a lot of energy to be this blond

I’m happy for her :)

Yeah I’ll bet you probably do Lau

A tonal shift so abrupt I got mental whiplash

Can we go back to when Grell was looking at the sky pls

Thought about science too hard. Got a concussion

Thought about Ciel dying too hard. Got an infection

Aww dad :( Hope you caught some fish tho

Looks like Harcourt won’t be winning this one, gang

I stg the hunger games simulator is misogynist because the ladies always DIE /j

Ran-Mao is hopefully here to prove the previous statement wrong

Other events:

Bard gets a hatchet

Undertaker also passes out from exhaustion

R!Ciel goes to sleep in a tree

Day 2

Oh you five are SO going in my burn book for this. It’s what Grell would’ve wanted

Ahaha just like in the real manga... right guys (;

Idk about you but I’m rooting for her

I don’t think the simulator could’ve picked four people who were less likely to team up than this

I would too if I saw my best friend was palling around with an opium dealer, a grim reaper with a lawn mower, and another grim reaper that the first grim reaper doesn’t like

Other events:

Othello chases Wolfram

That’s the only other event actually

That means today we lost O!Ciel, Mey-Rin, Harcourt, and Grell. ffs, I hope Ran-Mao kills all of you

Night 2

I’ve missed you, rare pair simulator

The “unknown sponsor” was Undertaker and the “fresh food” was O!Ciel

Confirmed: Lau doesn’t get high off his own supply

Once again a ceasefire between the strong hungry boys is formed

Girl, you don’t have to do that

“Did you kill Ciel?” Sebastian asks

“No that was William,” Othello says

Sebastian punches a tree so hard that it combusts. “God damn. Fuck” Sebastian says

Wolfram just realized I put him in the Hunger Games simulator

Other events:

Phipps thinks about “Are you winning son”

Undertaker gazes at space

Ronald becomes Lost Ronald

Soma passes out

Bard gets some water

Day 3

Damn Agni who haven’t you flirted with

Finny sees that Bard has water and thinks Bard cooked it himself, so he wants no part of that (might be burnt)

What did he even have that was worth stealing? A fish?

Well I can tell you who isn’t creating that smoke: Lau

“What’s worse than two young masters? No young masters. Now get over here and make a contract”

Everything about this sentence is a fever dream

Other events:

Undertaker decides he wants a slingy shot too

Edward chases Dad I mean Phipps

Othello gets some ouchies from picking berries

Night 3

When your young master dies, you just get an infection apparently

damn Finny’s playing hardball

I don’t think anything bad has actually happened to Bard yet. It’s just been a grand frolic the whole time

I barely remember reading the first Hunger Games but Ran-Mao’s the Foxface of this journey: she deserves to win and I just know she’ll die in the stupidest way possible

Sebastian’s like a cat that can’t reach the bird it wants to attack, so it attacks the nearest other thing instead. Poor Dad

Two white-haired anime boys and a not-white-haired anime boy talk about who will die tomorrow. Anime doesn’t exist yet so the white-haired anime boys don’t know their hair color automatically spells their doom

Other events:

Edward starts a fire, which means he’s capable of smoking opium

Ronald gets some medical supplies

Othello gets a hatchet

R!Ciel thinks about winning

Lau gets an entire explosive, but he won’t be able to light it, so no it’s no big deal

Day 4

In Soviet Hunger Games, white-haired anime boy kills you

But why murder someone when you could just mess with them

Other events:

Grey scares Bard

Finny goes hunting

Night 4

Have you four even killed anyone yet

The list of “people who didn’t start the manor fire and also don’t smoke opium” now consists of Lau and R!Ciel

The mood is too light now. Someone needs to die and it better not be Ran-Mao

At last, Father Phipps has chosen his son for this round

Agni gushes about all the hot guys he’s simultaneously in love with, giving Ran-Mao a clearer idea of who’s still alive

Day 5

Girl, it’s about time, go claim some trophies

Finny’s easily got the longest kill streak and it’s a little unnerving

Father Phipps finds a new secret fishing hole

Othello doesn’t

Lau continues to put in all the efforts of a kindergarten bully

Oh no. He’s a yandere

Other events:

Sebastian fucks around and explores the arena

Bard fucks around and hunts for tributes

Undertaker fucks around and sleeps

R!Ciel fucks around and picks flowers

Night 5

I’ve never met anyone who ships Sebastian/Undertaker but I know you’re out there

Okay, maybe these four are even less likely to team up than Phipps, Ronald, Undertaker, and Lau

Edward sees I’m making jokes about people who build fires and stays hidden

Day 6

Canonically, that is the only way R!Ciel would win a fight, so

I probably could have predicted this

I hope these are the faces they made when it happened

The “unknown sponsor” is R!Ciel and the “fresh food” is an ear that fell off his own head

I’m not sure if I should be concerned or unsurprised that Bard’s Hunger Games life is more chill than his canon life

the “unknown sponsor” was the fish and the “clean water” was “fish water”

Other events:

Ran-Mao gets her third weapon that she doesn’t want to use, which is a hatchet

Finny finds a river

Agni practices archery again, but he doesn’t kill anyone because he wants this to go on forever

Night 6

Ran-Mao I beg you please. Release us from this purgatory of mediocrity

And suddenly we’re back to canon Bard

I guess not everything can be canon

Other events:

Both Agni and Phipps pass out from exhaustion. It’s 2:50 a.m. so I should really be taking a page from their book, but unfortunately everyone refuses to die

The Feast

Finny has been a stone cold killer this entire match, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the girl I wanted to win would get eliminated by him, but it still hurts ✌️😔

If you cheat on Othello, he will overpower you, killing you

Everyone else decided not to go to the Feast. Honestly, I don’t remember what the Feast is, but everyone who did go either murdered someone or got murdered, so I guess that was probably a good call

Day 7

I’ve had enough of this dude

Jesus Finny I can’t wait to see how many kills you got, I feel like you and Agni were the only two who took anyone down

Bard, Undertaker, Sebastian, and Phipps all hunt for other tributes but they’re useless and don’t kill anyone

Arena Event: Volcano Eruption

In one fell swoop, we lose Sebastian, Undertaker, R!Ciel, and Finny, jeez. But... that means it comes down to.............

FATHER PHIPPS VS. BARD

FATHER PHIPPS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow... Unlike his manga counterpart, this boy coasted the whole time and won... He basically went on vacation and he actually won... But then again, it’s Hunger Games Simulator and nothing is sacred

Well I hope you learned a valuable lesson today. I hope you did at some point before you read my post, because you sure as hell learned nothing from this. Thank you for wasting precious minutes of your life with me 😏

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji hunger games simulator

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thevictorious · 3 years

Text

but death she is cunning, and clever as hell

Name: Fava Thornewood

Age: 19

Gender: Cis female

Sexuality: Pansexual

District: Twelve

Title: (Co-)Victor of the 74th Hunger Games

and she’ll eat you alive

tw: death, murder, killing, & injury

The people of Twelve were scarcely able to survive. Far, far away from the Capitol, the coal miners and their families starved while the rich Capitolites devoured feasts.

The Thornewood family was no exception. Collis stepped into the mines day after day, straining in the dark, with the hopes of keeping his family alive for just one more day. But the truth of it was, that the Thornewood family was as happy as anybody in Twelve could be. Perhaps the children were hungry and and their clothes didn’t fit, but they were loved and cared for. Unlike so many children in their district, their faces were never dirty. They made the very best of their horrid situation.

They were tight knit. Collis and Gemma tended to the fire while their three children snuggled up to them, and listened to the stories of their ancestors. Collis, Fava remembers fondly, was an excellent storyteller.

Hell, she admired Collis in everything that he did. She wanted to grow up to be like her father, strong and capable but capable of great kindness and grace. He was truly her hero.

And, perhaps most importantly, Collis’ work kept the family from starving. They were hungry, and never had quite enough to eat, but there was always food on the table. From time to time, he’d even bring Fava to the Seam to shop for a little treat for her and the twins. Beautiful but vanished trinkets called to her, food from the forest piqued her interest, and she took special pleasure in visiting this place where her father seemed so well loved. People here liked him too. They had good taste.

The news came one afternoon while Fava was in school.

At just eleven years old, she’d lost her hero. His stories, his rough hands, his warm smile, had been buried in the mines. There was no body, no funeral, no money.

Collis Thornewood hadn’t been the only casualty either. An accidental blast had caused the mineshaft to crumble, entombing nearly a dozen miners in the darkness. The people of Twelve, to their credit, did the best that they could to keep the families sustained. They brought over whatever food they could spare, clothing, and firewood, but after a few weeks they could not continue these donations.

What remained of the Thornewood family was entirely on its own.

Gemma tried to remain strong for her children, she kept a brave face when she thought that they were not looking, but crumbled just as quickly. The twins, Grace and Burnet, were equally stunned. They were so little, so heartbroken, and Fava saw her own mourning reflected in their faces.

Still, they had little choice but to move on.

Fava and the twins went to school, and her mother tried to make ends meet as a seamstress. But their efforts were not enough… The family was starving. She could see it in her siblings’ faces, in her mother’s hollowed eyes. They could not possibly make it through this.

Just a year after Collis had died, it seemed that the family would die with him. And then Hudson stepped in. She’d never payed Hudson much mind in school. They were kind and gentle, but never someone she’d been close to, so she could scarcely believe when they had gone out of their way to give her food. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She could take this meal to her family and they could survive another day.

Of course, prideful as Fava was, she was rather embarrassed. But she would not turn down the gift, not if it meant helping her family. She never forgot Hudson’s kindness.

A few weeks later, Fava was awoken by a nightmare and hunger pangs. She thought back on those happy days with her father and the Seam. People there were tough, just as he one was, but they were kind. More importantly, she thought of the food that they sold at their stalls. Animals from the forests…

Perhaps she could provide for her family in the same way.

She ventured out into the forests the next day, slipping through a hole in the fence, and she quickly ran into a neighbor boy. Raab was tall and handsome, his laughter was infectious, but she’d never expected to find him out here. The chance meeting had resulted in a friendship. In time, Raab taught her to make a bow and arrow and how to shoot. He taught her to build traps and catch game. The time that they spent together only brought them closer.

In time, she became a fantastic hunter. Driven by her family’s need, she’d finally found how she could keep them alive. And the extra that she had? She sold in the Seam. The people there smiled warmly at her, just as they did her father.

For years, it went on like that. She and Raab spent long days hunting together, feeding their families as best they could. They earned just enough money to keep their loved ones fed and usually evaded capture. But hardship, be it her father’s death or her hunting, had drained Fava of her warmth. She was every bit as strong and capable and graceful, but she did not have Collis’ kindness.

Not unless she was spending time with her younger siblings. She could never be harsh with them.

At age eighteen, the same year as the twins’ first reaping, Fava tried to reassure them that they would not be chosen. She and Raab, however… It was all that Fava could to to keep her expression stony and calm. She had terrible feeling about the Reaping, but it turned out so much worse than she’d ever anticipated.

The escort smiled as their hand swirled elegantly in the glass sphere, and she drew out a piece of paper. Fava held her breath, only to hear her sister’s name. “Grace Thornewood!”

For a moment there was silence, she was so startled that Fava forgot to breathe. No. No. How could this happen? Without thinking, she charged forward to grab hold of her sister. She would not let Grace go. As the Peacekeepers tried to pull her away, she spoke the words that she’d never imagined saying aloud “I volunteer as tribute.”

Grace and Burnet were safe, at least for now.

What’s worse, Hudson joined her on stage just moments later. She had not forgotten their kindness, the debt that she owed them, and she burned with embarrassment. Would they tell all of Panem how desperate she’d been? Or worse, would they expect her to give up her life for theirs? After all, they’d saved her once.

For days, she tried to pay as little attention to Hudson as she possibly could, tried to push them out of her mind. They were unimportant. All that mattered was that she needed to return home to her siblings, to her mother, so that she could continue to support them. She couldn’t stand the idea that they’d starve.

But in time, she found herself warming to Hudson a bit. They were kind, gentle even, and she helped them when she could in the training center. She had not expected that romance would be central to their survival.

For the most part, her games were something of a blur. She did her very best to do as Griffin said, staying away from the Cornucopia, and she put her survival skills in the forests to use. Maybe, just maybe, she could survive this.

The Games lasted for weeks, testing her mettle and intelligence and strength. Oh, and how Fava suffered. She’d managed to trap one of the careers in a snare, but as she approached the Career she was stabbed. Though she finished them off soon after, and wielded the knife to her advantage, the injury plagued her for the remained of the Games.

From then on, she used snares and her knife as her primary weapon. Trapping tributes one by one, until at last she trapped a young man from two who’d gotten his hands on a bow and arrow. At last, she was in fighting force. No more did she need to hide away in the shadows, but she could show herself off as the competitor she was.

Fava was relentless, keeping to herself save for a brief brush with other tributes, but it was only when she caught a glimpse of Hudson that she paused. In the end, they would have to die, they could not both live through this, but she didn’t have it in her heart to kill them. Someone else would have to finish the job.

Soon after, an announcement was made. Two tributes could leave the Games together, if only they were from the same district. She found Hudson soon after, and the pair watched each other’s backs as the number of tributes dwindled further and further. At Griffin’s encouragement, the pair struck up a romance. Hudson seemed to be far better at it than Fava, but she would do damn near anything to survive. Love was merely a tool to get what she wanted.

In the end, after a brutal fight with a pair of career tributes from Four, they were victorious. They’d made it to the end. But the previous change was soon reversed, and Fava realized that she would have to kill Hudson.

She thought of going home, of seeing Burnet and Grace again, but to leave them? Perhaps there was another way…

Fava gathered a handful Nightlock berries, poured some into Hudson’s hands and shared her plan. The Capitol would have no victor at all. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps she could still make this work. Fava’s bet had paid off. Just as quickly as the ruling had been reversed, the Gamemakers allowed them both to survive, and they were crowned victors. Two!

But she knew that it would not be so easy. President Snow and his wicked entourage would not allow her and Hudson to live in peace. Unfortunately for Fava, she doesn’t have any idea just how terrible their punishment will be.

#biography .

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kriscme · 4 years

Text

One Life To Live

Thanks as always to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take”. You can find it on AO3 and Fanfiction.

Chapter 30 Haymitch alternates swigs of white liquor with large bites of pizza out of a takeaway box. I’ve mistimed my visit again, catching the last five minutes of “One Life to Live.” “What’s Celia doing in a therapy support group?” I ask as the credits roll. Haymitch clicks the off button on the remote and the screen goes black. “Sex addiction,” he tells me, taking another gulp from his bottle. “She can’t keep her knickers on after what Lance did to her.” “What did Lance do?” The last time I watched this silly show, she and Lance were having a threesome with the gardener. “Made her like sex too much. And then Anton. And Cecil. And 11’s wrestling team. They’re blaming psychological issues or some such rubbish. Fear of emotional intimacy is one theory. Or could be she’s just a slut.” “And what about Blake? Is he married to Ginger yet?” “He would’ve been but the baby came a few weeks early and now he wants nothing to do with her.” I wait for more but Haymitch just helps himself to another slice of pizza. “Why?”

He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Two people with fair skin usually have a fair skinned baby.” “Oh.” The guy from the punk band, and the real father of Ginger’s baby, is very dark. I rather wish I had seen that episode when Ginger’s baby popped out. The look on Blake’s face must have been priceless. “Well, anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about “One Life to Live.” I wanted to ask you about Cressida.” “What about her?” “Do you think she can be trusted?” Haymitch shoots me an incredulous look and laughs. “What do you think? She works for Plutarch, doesn’t she?” I was afraid he’d say that. My worry must show in my face. “Why do you ask? You haven’t done something stupid, have you?” When I don’t answer, he snorts and takes another drink. “That’s why no one let you make the plans.” This gets my back up. “Like you did such a good job of it. If you’d involved Peeta and me in your so-called plans, we’d have known not to let ourselves be separated from each other in the first place. And then he wouldn’t have been captured, and he wouldn’t now – “ “Yeah, yeah, alright,” he says, raising a hand. “We’ve been over this before and I’m not in the mood to have my face gouged again. It’s bad enough that I had to go through it again with Peeta.” Johanna told me that Peeta got mad at Haymitch when those memories came back. Preoccupied as I often am with my own guilt over Peeta, I sometimes forget that Haymitch is carrying his share of it too and my anger subsides. Besides, my bitten down fingernails could barely impact a mosquito bite. I should make time to visit the salon to have those fake things put on again. “How is Peeta?” I ask. “Have you talked to him?” A week has passed since Peeta and I last spoke. I’d called around the following day to thank him for the cake but he wasn’t home so I made do with a note under his door. I haven’t seen him leave or return home from the bakery although I know from Johanna that he’s working regular hours. The only visible evidence I have that he’s still in the Village is that the primrose bushes have been pruned recently. Not through all our ups and downs has Peeta neglected the bushes. Obviously, he did it when I wasn’t around to see it. He seems to be avoiding me and I don’t know why. I can’t think of anything I’ve done to upset him. Before he answers, Haymitch takes a moment to toss the empty pizza box in the general vicinity of a pile of discarded food containers by the window. Even from this distance, I can see a trail of ants making their way down the wall possibly in anticipation of yet another feast. In less than an hour they’ll be swarming over the box, picking over the remnants and transporting them back to their nest. Perhaps this is Haymitch’s idea of cleaning. Have the ants do it. “Saw him the day before yesterday. Had dinner after watching the tape. Johanna cooked. I wish she’d let Peeta do it. He’s a much better cook, but she insisted. She fusses over him like a mother hen and I think it’s starting to get on his nerves. But he’s fine, all things considered. Just very down. Stares into space when he thinks no one’s looking. But no flashbacks or signs of serious depression. Keeping busy and sticking to a routine has helped.” I let this sink in. My initial reaction is to feel hurt that I wasn’t invited to have dinner with them. It’s irrational,of course. I’m the one who distanced myself. And I was busy this weekend anyway. But I do miss it. All of us together. “He’s keeping up with the tapes, then?” “Yeah, although it’s going over old territory if you ask me. Mostly it’s promotional footage, Capitol parties, various interviews.” That could explain why I haven’t seen him. Maybe it’s Cressida and media attention he wants to avoid. The camera crew are everywhere. I even saw one of them filming the Village, for no particular reason that I could make out, and paying extra attention to Peeta’s house and mine. Haymitch drains the last of his bottle and reaches for another beside his chair and gives the top a twist. “He showed interest in one of them. The start of the Victory Tour – when you came running out of your house to push him into the snow.” “Ha ha.” I say caustically, giving Haymitch’s joke the response it deserves. I think back to that day. Making the most of my remaining hours of freedom: in the woods checking the snare lines; a change of clothes at my old house in the Seam; a visit to Hazelle; and lastly, calling in on Haymitch. I’d promised to wake him an hour before the cameras came. It seemed that he’d also asked Peeta, because he showed up at the same time. To say it was chilly between us is putting it mildly. Peeta barely looked at me. When I got home President Snow was waiting for me with his threats. Convince the districts, convince me that Peeta and I were madly in love, or Gale was dead, with others to follow. There was no way to warn Peeta, but I was sure he’d perform well anyway. And he did. Our first kiss in months and no one could have guessed that he was acting – not even me if I hadn’t known better. I ask “Did he remember it?” “Parts of it. The cameras, falling in the snow, some of what we discussed before Effie and the prep teams arrived.” “You and Peeta?” I feel a flash of resentment that they had had this discussion without me, but then remember that I walked out soon after Peeta got there. Haymitch probably wanted to talk to us both. “What about?” “That he needed to change his attitude. Reminded him that the romance was his idea. That you kept him alive and would’ve died with him, rather than take the victory for yourself. How imperative it was to keep up the act or people would die.”

It fits. On the train journey to 11, Peeta apologised to me, acknowledged my actions had kept us alive, and that we should try being friends.

“That’s what he remembered,” continues Haymitch. “What he forgot was what I said about you being in a different place than him. That he had this crush long before the Games even started, whereas for you the romance was a strategy that the two of us cooked up. And from where I was sitting, I saw a boy who was head-over-heels and a girl who was getting there. That all she needed was time and patience but if he continued to sulk – “ A conversation between Haymitch and me just before Peeta and I reunited on stage after winning the Games. About convincing everyone that the trick with the berries was motivated by love. “Did you tell Peeta this?” “Don’t have to. He’s already there.” “But you think I’m not?” So that’s what Haymitch meant. He knew before I did. Finnick too. I interrupt. “What did he say?” “That he wished he had known. That’s all.” Haymitch gazes thoughtfully down at his bottle. “It occurred to me that maybe, if this memory was distorted or erased – “ “He’d believe I hadn’t loved him but it was important for us to be friends,” I say, finishing the thought for him. There’s some logic to it. I can imagine the half-memory sticking up like a tree root waiting to trip Peeta up. And then skewing every memory, and every thought he’s had about me since. “It’s a wild guess, but not impossible. And it’s not like there’s any other ideas. I should run it past Aurelius. See what he thinks.” “Do it,” I say. “At the very least, it can’t hurt.” The more information Dr Aurelius has the better he can help Peeta. It won’t help me though. Peeta wouldn’t be mourning the loss of Lace if he didn’t love her. Or make him love me. Haymitch nods, takes a drink from his bottle, and then goes back to contemplating its depths as if somehow the answers can be found there. I take this as a signal that the conversation is over and start to rise from the couch when his voice freezes me in place. “So, what’s the stupid thing you’ve done that’s made you worry about Cressida?” I hoped he’d forgotten about that. Because the “stupid thing” is something I definitely can’t confide in Haymitch about. “I haven’t done anything,” I say, scowling at him. “It’s just that I wanted your advice on whether I should be on my guard. She tried to involve me in the interviews with Marcus. Like I’d be standing well to the side and then she’d ask me a question, and then the cameras would swing over to me. She says she won’t use it but after what happened to Johanna . . .” “If that’s all there is, you’ll be OK. Even if they do use it and the public wants more, there’s nothing either Cressida or Plutarch can do about it. No one could say you deliberately set out to draw attention to yourself. You were just doing a job. That’s where Johanna went wrong. She was trying to attract publicity. And there’s no scandal attached to you and Marcus either – that’s another way they can get around it. They’ll say they’re reporting on him and you’re merely collateral damage. So, unless you get caught with your pants down, you haven’t a thing to worry about.” Haymitch regards me with amusement. “Or have you? Been caught with your pants down, that is?” “Of course not!” I splutter indignantly. My face burns and it must surely be a bright shade of red. “I’d never – “ “Calm down, sweetheart. It was only a joke,” he says, shaking his head. And then to show how funny he thinks he is; he breaks out laughing. I judge it to be a good time to leave. I wander around the Village for a little while. I want to talk to Johanna. She’d understand. But Peeta might come to the door and then how to get Johanna alone without being rude. At home, Marcus has his own worry and I don’t want to add to it by talking about it. Eventually, I take refuge in my favourite thinking spot; my front porch. And I then I try as hard as I can to reassure myself that I’m worrying over nothing but without much success. How could we have been so careless? I hadn’t seen much of Cressida during the week. She’d been busy working on a separate feature on 12’s recovery from the war. She even visited the school. Mr Matson obligingly gave her a tour and allowed the cameras into the classrooms. Max made sure to get his face on camera, of course. When I saw them heading in the direction of my classroom, I locked the door and pulled down the blind. “Shh,” I said to the kids, “let’s pretend we’re not here.” They thought it was a great game. For the new national park, she wanted to interview Marcus in a series of locations similar to what she did of Gale and me when we returned to bombed-out 12 for some unscripted interviews. In this case, we’d be following the new trails Marcus had surveyed ending with the lake. But, because it was unlikely that we would get back before nightfall, it was decided to camp at the lake overnight and return to town the next day. I was hesitant to go. I knew it was in my best interests to stay as far from the cameras as possible. But Marcus said it didn’t feel right for me not to be there since I had played such a large part in it. And because Marcus and I don’t have much time left together and Cressida had assured me that the attention would be on Marcus anyway, I allowed myself to be persuaded. Marcus led the way. Our first stop was at the top of a ridge which Marcus has designated for a lookout. It was a welcome relief to drop my heavy pack to the ground after the long climb and have a long cool drink while Cressida conducted the interview. The blackberry bushes were heavy with fruit and I positioned myself in front of them. From there I was away from the cameras but could still watch and gorge myself on berries at the same time. “Katniss, close by is the very spot where I interviewed you and your hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne, as part of a feature we did on District 12 not long after it was destroyed by enemy bombs. I got the impression that these woods are very special to you. What are your feelings about it becoming a national park?” Suddenly all eyes and two camera lenses were on me. I tried to hide by retreating backwards but was met by a wall of prickles from the blackberry bushes. Cressida waited expectantly. “Ah, well, you know, times change. I guess from a personal standpoint it’s a big adjustment, but if it ensures that the woods will be protected it’s all worthwhile.” Cressida nodded and turned back to Marcus to continue her questions. Messalina, her assistant, scribbled something in her notebook. From there it was easy walking along the ridge and my mind wandered to other times I’d come this way - with my father, by myself, with Gale, and most recently with Marcus. Before long many feet will trace these same steps and I was overcome by sadness that my beloved woods would no longer be mine. Even with just these five people, it feels like a violation. The woods have been my sanctuary. Would I ever find another? “A coin for your thoughts.” Startled, my head jerked towards the sound. Cressida was beside me. Last time I looked; she had been walking up front with Marcus. She must have hung back and waited for me. I didn’t really know what to make of Cressida. In 13, I had admired her calmness under pressure and the pride she took in her work. It reminded me of Cinna and I thought that if she and I were in the arena together, I would pick her as an ally. But that was before Prim was killed. I can’t be sure, but I suspect she informed Plutarch of our whereabouts that day. If Snow was telling the truth that Plutarch was behind the bombing that killed Prim, then that makes her complicit in some way. Maybe not intentionally, but she played a part in much the same way as Gale did. At the very least it proved to me that Cressida’s loyalty isn’t to me, but to Plutarch and the story she’s chasing. And then there’s Johanna. Was it really an accident that Plutarch got hold of that interview? “I was just thinking of how things have changed,” I answered. There, honest but not too revealing. Nothing that Cressida could take much from. I was wrong. “Since we last came this way?” she asked, looking down at the ground. “This must be very difficult for you, more or less following the same route we did for the interviews that day – dredging up memories of times and people lost.” She hesitated for a moment, as if pondering the wisdom of her next words. “I’m sorry if my relationship with Gale has added to that in any way. I – “ “It doesn’t,” I interjected before she could say more. “Gale and I weren’t meant to be together. I’m happy for you both. Truly.” Her face cleared. “That’s what Gale said. But I wondered . . .” I said nothing because there was nothing to say. I was a little miffed that Gale had dismissed me so easily. I thought he should at least have some regret for what could have been. I was glad that I hadn’t wasted my time fretting over him. “Peeta, then?” “Huh?” The question took me by surprise. “I wasn’t actually thinking about him.” “It would be understandable if you were. I know I can’t help thinking of that time and of our purpose here. Do you remember the appeal you made to him from where his parents’ bakery once stood? If I were asked to choose one propo above the rest, that would be it. The carnage, the desolation, the utterly incomprehensible loss of life was encapsulated in that short piece.” “Yeah, I guess.” Personally, I thought they were all awful but perhaps Cressida takes a film maker’s view of things and she judges the artistic merit. “They still speak of you in the Districts, you know. You and Peeta. You haven’t been forgotten.” I shrugged in response. How could we be forgotten when some of our fellow victors have pursued a life in the public gaze? Our very absence would give rise to speculation – rather like those shows you sometimes see on TV “where are they now?” At least we’re spared media attention. That’s something to be grateful for. Cressida went on. “Your love story struck a chord with the public consciousness that shows no sign of abating. It represents so many things to people. How love and hope endure. Rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. It – “ “Does it?” I asked, cutting her off. “Well, if they want to keep on believing in that nonsense, I can’t stop them. I need to take a toilet break. Excuse me.” Ignoring Cressida’s shocked expression I left her to go in search of a tree. Why did she have to tell me that? It’s everything that Peeta’s love would have meant to me too. And I’m so tired of people and their expectations. Peeta and I represent nothing. Nothing! Except maybe that nothing lasts and hope is a stupid illusion for stupid people. I went through the motions of relieving myself although I didn’t really need to, but it gave me time to calm myself before I rejoined the others. When we stopped for lunch, I made sure to sit next to Pollux. We exchanged smiles but that was the end of any kind of conversation. An avox, Pollux can’t talk and that suited me just fine. Marcus sent a smile my way and then went back to talking to Cressida. Messalina was occupied with her notebook. The remaining member of our party, Remus, was making adjustments to his insect shell – the name I gave the camera equipment that wraps around the bodies of the camera crew. I disliked Remus on sight with his small shifting eyes that seem to take in everything. He was the one I saw filming the Village. It was late afternoon when we arrived at the lake but there was still sufficient light for Cressida to do her interview. I overheard her tell Pollux and Remus she’d like some additional film of the lake the following morning but otherwise we were done. I would’ve liked to have taken a walk with Marcus around the lake but we were supposed to appear as if our relationship was strictly a working one. He didn’t want the same thing that happened with Johanna to happen to us. So, when we gathered around the campfire that night for supper, we sat opposite each other. And when we retired for the night in the concrete house our sleeping mats were as far apart as we could make them. Not that there was any chance of us getting close – not with Cressida and Messalina there too. Pollux and Remus shared a tent just outside the house. One of them snored like a chainsaw which Messalina complained about incessantly. I don’t know who kept me awake the longest – Messalina or the snorer. When the first thin rays of sunlight fell across the concrete house, Cressida and Messalina were dead to the world. Marcus was already up, dressed and putting on his boots. He put his finger to his lips and pointed to the door. I nodded and wiggled out of my sleeping bag. It took only a minute to find my trousers, shirt and boots and join him outside. It was my favorite time of the day: the sun just peeking over the horizon; birds caroling the new day; the air so fresh and clean. The tent was zipped shut; loud snores rumbled from within. Carefully, we walked past until we were out of earshot. “Why don’t I search for firewood while you fetch water from the spring?” said Marcus. “Ok,” I replied, intrigued. There were logs stacked behind the house and we had brought water in with us. Nevertheless, I took a couple of empty water bottles and started out for the spring. It was familiar to us both as Marcus had noted it as a feature on one of the walking tracks and I had long used it as a water source. It was only about six minutes’ walk away; five, if you don’t count the short stop behind a rhododendron bush to attend to nature. The spring gushes from the side of a foothill into a brook that feeds into the lake. It’s the sweetest water imaginable and I helped myself to a long cool draught. And then I waited . . . and waited. I was about to give up when I caught a glimpse of his khaki shirt through the underbrush.

“What’s this about? Aren’t we supposed – “ I began. His answer was to pull me hard against him and capture my lips in a kiss. It took me by surprise after everything he had said about the importance of maintaining appearances. But after that first shock, I took fire and answered him in kind, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing into him, straining to get closer. His belt buckle dug painfully into my ribs. It had to go. While I struggled with it, he reached beneath my shirt with one hand to fondle my breast. My feet started to lose traction and I realized he was pushing me backwards and upwards until I was elevated slightly, my back against a large oak, my feet resting precariously on a root flare. The belt taken care of, I started on the button and zipper on his trousers. He did the same with mine, pulling down trousers and underwear in one swift motion. And then we were both free, his hardness nudging between my legs. “I’m sorry, I can’t – “I panted. My feet were shackled by my clothes and I was unable to spread my legs wide enough to allow him entry. Frantically, a boot was unlaced, tossed aside and a trouser leg pulled down over my foot. Unhampered now, I hooked a leg around his waist and with one smooth powerful thrust he was all the way inside, one hand on my breast, the other braced against the tree, his mouth covering mine. It felt so, so good. I could have stayed impaled against that tree forever. That is, until he started pounding his hips into me. The rough bark of the oak stabbed into my lower back with each thrust. It was lucky my shirt tail covered my naked behind or splinters might have been a problem too. Marcus enjoyed himself though. I could tell from his breathing that he was close. But then it happened. A loud snap. It was unmistakable. We both heard it. Even Marcus, occupied as he was. Our heads spun trying to locate the source of the sound. But there was nothing to see; only trees and low bushes. “It was probably just a falling branch,” said Marcus. He didn’t sound confident. “Yeah, probably,” I agreed, even though a falling branch would also have made a crashing sound as it hit the ground. Neither of us were at ease and the moment was lost. Marcus slipped out of me and we put our clothes back in order. I retrieved the full water bottles and headed back to camp. Marcus returned separately with the bundle of firewood he’d collected before he joined me at the spring. Our fellow campers were as we had left them. Cressida, laid out like a starfish on her back. Messalina, huddled under her sleeping bag. The tent still zippered up, the snorer still snoring. But by the lake, in full insect shell, was Remus with his camera trained on an ibis feeding in the shallows in the early light. On my approach, he gave a small wave before he returned to his work. But on his face, was a small, but undeniable smirk.

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firstumcschenectady · 7 years

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“Bread for the World” based on Isaiah 25:1-9

In 2005 I was commissioned as a probationary Elder in The United Methodist Church, and immediately thereafter I went to Cuba on a Volunteer in Mission Trip (VIM). Cuba was fascinating and the trip was meaningful and educational. We started and ended our time in Cuba at the Methodist Hospitality House in Havana. On our last night, we were to have closing worship and the other clergy on the trip informed me that I was to preside at the communion table (for the first time). As a seminary student, I'd been involved in a lot of conversations about bread and grape juice; particularly around the idea that the the bread and wine that Jesus had used were the common elements of food for the people of his day, and that in places where bread and grape juice are not common food, perhaps they should not be the elements of communion. I found it convincing, particularly after having learned that grape juice is SUPER expensive in Cuba as grapes are not native and embargoes limit trade.

Thus, I decided to preside over the table with the elements of the people: salines and mango juice. Once our Cuban hosts heard about this, they wanted to partake as well. So, in one of those strikingly holy moments of life, I stood as an American woman in a rooftop in Havana, and presided over a bilingual communion service with salines and mango juice.

Not so long after that, I was back at school and back at my pastoral internship, helping to serve a Thanksgiving meal at the Hollywood UMC. It was a Sunday night, and the large room was filled with tables and the tables were filled with people. After serving most of the crowd, I looked up. What I saw took my breath away. It was the church's Thanksgiving Dinner, so many of the people who were present were church members; but they also made all meals open to the community, so many of those present were people who were homeless and hungry. The two crowds were intermingled at each table, sitting together and sharing a meal. The tables were diverse in other ways as well: age, race, country of origin, sexual orientations, gender identities, and even religious faith. On that day when I looked up and saw God's beloved people talking, laughing, and eating together I knew I'd seen the kin-dom of God on earth (if only for a moment).

Somewhere along the line, those two powerful moments have bonded in my brain, the communion meal intermingled with the shared meal of church fellowship that also fed the hungry. Perhaps they were tied together by the reflections of Rev. Dr. Barbara Thorington Green, who often speaks about the ways that God's Table (communion) invokes and also blesses the tables we share fuller meals at. Food is sacred, shared food even more so, and whether it is meals that fill the belly or tiny pieces of bread meant to satiate the soul, they matter.

Isaiah shares a vision of God in our reading today, and it is one that invokes and expands both of the stories I just told you. In this passage God prepares a table, a feast actually, of rich foods that would nourish bodies, and invites ALL people from ALL nations to the feast. God makes the food, for God's people, and all can eat together. It is so spectacular, so marvelous, that it makes sense that within such a God-drenched experience that God would also bring an end to death and bring God's presence fully to the people.

Abundant, life-giving food, prepared for ALL people by God's own self is equivalent, it seems, to swallowing up death itself.

This is not the world we live in. (Sorry to break it to you.) Death is here, still. Abundant, life-giving food is not available to all of God's people, and while the presence of God may be here with us, we often don't feel drenched in its goodness. According to the resources provided by Bread for the World, “Nearly 15 percent of U.S. households — approximately 49 million Americans, including 15.9 million children — struggle to put food on the table.”1 The problem is not limited to the United States. They also share, “The number of hungry people in Asia has also declined substantially, by 217 million between 1990-92 and 2012-14, according to the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization. Yet Asia still has to two-thirds of the world’s hungry people.” Specifically, “More than 40 percent of children in India are stunted (being too short for their age group) due to malnutrition.” The other area of the world in greatest need is sub-Saharan Africa, “Just over a quarter of the world’s undernourished people live in the countries south of the Sahara Desert in Africa. Progress against hunger has been slow in this region. In 1990, one in three people in the region were undernourished. Today, one in four suffer from hunger”.2 “All added up, worldwide, 1.2 billion people still live in extreme poverty—on less than $1.25 per day.”3 This is WAY down from the recent past, but still unacceptable.

Bread for the world links to the United Nations Sustainable Development goals, which include the information that “In 2016, an estimated 155 million children under age 5 were stunted (low height for their age), down from 198 million in 2000, ”4 and “The proportion of undernourished people worldwide declined from 15 per cent in 2000-2002 to about 11 per cent in 2014-2016. … Globally, about 793 million people were undernourished in 2014-2016, down from 930 million in 2000-2002.”5 The decline in global hunger is a great thing, but it is still way too much.

We don't live in a world where abundant, life-giving food is available to all of God's people, not at all. And while global poverty and hunger was on the decline this year (praise God!), within the United States it rose, and is expected to keep rising. In previous years we have participated in the Bread for the World offering of Letters, asking our state and federal elected officials to pass expansive legislation to make food available to hungry people, this year we are aware that it will fall on deaf ears. We aren't fighting to expand programs to hungry people anymore, we are now fighting to keep resources that exist, insufficient though they are.

It is especially difficult right now, in the US and in the world, because the impacts of Global Climate change are drastically impacting food production, droughts and floods, wars and migration, transportation and food prices. All of this means that access to abundant, life-giving food is very difficult for many. Thanks be to God for the many organizations committed to finding ways to get food to hungry people, and thanks be to God that in the world at large there was a DECLINE in hunger despite these extra challenges!!

Isaiah's dream, however, still feels far off. I want to retell you the dream, in slightly different language, because I think we all need to soak in it a bit.

Our God, the one who never abandons us, the one who holds us together, We remember all that you have done, all the acts of liberation, and justice, all the ways you've sparked creativity, nurtured love, and healed brokenness. You have acted, and you have guided us to destroy the fortresses of oppression, and you ensure they will never be rebuild. The powers that deny anyone's humanity are over. The systems that privilege one over another are no more. Awe has struck all of us, the strong and the weak alike, at what you can do. You have reminded us of your values, and brought them to life. You are the sanctuary for the poor, the one who is safe shelter to those in need and in despair, protection from from hurricanes and rainstorms, a fireproof haven from the sun and from the fires, a sturdy foundation that not even an earthquake can harm. When the powerful attacked the weak, like a blizzard attacking a disintegrating home, when the cries of those calling for injustice seemed to drown out the voices calling for justice, you acted. You provided reinforcements and insulation for the homes, you reminded those calling for injustice of their own needs, and they stopped yelling and started listening. Here, here in this place, this place that has known such tragedy, fear, anger, sadness, and despair, here in this place you will give gifts to all your people. One will sit by another, and no characteristic of humanity will separate them. Here, in this place, you feed us all with delicious food, nourishing us, healing us, reminding us of goodness once again. Here, in this place, comfort will be shared, tears will be dried, shame will be destroyed, and death itself will lose its power to frighten us or bring us pain. Knowing that this will happen, let us be glad and rejoice in the goodness.

Commentators say that this vision won't necessarily come true exactly as written. #spoileralert Yet, I'm told that we can't be part of creating what we can't dream of, and we can't see what we can't conceive of. In the midst of the brokenness all around us, we need reminders of what goodness looks like, what hope would create if it could, what dreams God is dreaming over the long run. Some of us (me included) are so busy being concerned about the present that we lose sight of the idea that God is very good at playing a very long game.

So, bread for the world, that's the dream. All people being fed with abundant, life-giving food. Isaiah says not just bread but delicious soups and sauces, not just food but drink as well. No one going hungry, no one in need, not in body nor in soul.

That's one of God's dreams, and it is surely a God sized dream. Bread for the World and the United Nations are actually dreaming it with God, the goal is to eliminate hunger in the world by 2030. They say it is going more slowly than the hoped – but it is GOING. God's dreams might just be in reach, this one and all the rest as well. May we take the time to soak in the goodness of God's dreams, to trust in the visions God has for an abundant and just world, and give our attention to what might be – God is so good the dreams and visions are nourishing for us. Amen

1Bread for the World “About Hunger” http://www.bread.org/where-does-hunger-existaccessed on 10/12/17.

2Grassroots Advocacy Resources, Facts on Hunger and Poverty,http://www.bread.org/sites/default/files/downloads/gar-issues-poverty-hunger-us.pdfaccessed on 10/12/17.

3Grassroots Advocacy Resources

4United Nations, The Sustainable Development Goals Report 2017,https://unstats.un.org/sdgs/files/report/2017/TheSustainableDevelopmentGoalsReport2017.pdf accessed on 10/12/17.

5United Nations

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

October 15, 2017

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trinuil · 7 years

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The King’s Favor. Part II

The ceremony was held in the great hall of kings and it had progressed smoothly. The royal family, their many relatives and the elites of Erebor were present to bestow their blessings on the little prince. The halls were decked with the finest tapestries and decorations and hosted large tables bearing enough food and ale to feed all of Erebor for a week. It was a royal celebration and it couldn’t fall short of grandeur.

You had a mildly busy day.

The Queen was very busy herself with the guests so she didn’t have time to order you around. She made you fetch a few things for her and watch the prince with the nannies. A few of the bachelors made passes at you and you had politely turned them down. You weren’t looking for love just yet; your job demanded your full attention and Misadora wouldn’t have it otherwise.

You were relieved that you had barely any conversation with Thorin again save for the time he curtly asked you to carry a scroll to Misadora. He was swamped with his courtly duties even amidst his son’s name day celebration. But that didn’t mean he didn’t spare some time to glance your way.

Dawn was breaking and the celebrations were drawing to an end. A few people remained still gossiping and others desperately staggered towards doorways, heavily intoxicated. You felt like you couldn’t stand anymore for you were standing for the length of the night and slowly made your way towards a corner and sat down.

The prince was put to bed hours ago and Misadora appeared to no longer desire any more of your assistance. She was surrounded by diplomats who were done with business and were now playing a game of gwent. Merrymaking and getting drunk was most certainly Misadora’s forte. All her cares were lost as she laughed and threw herself all too willingly into the company of these dwarves. Thorin seemed uninterested and he sat lazily in his chair, engaged in a conversation with a noble while taking swigs out of a tankard.

You exhaled loudly removing your shoes. Can this day be over already? Footsteps were approaching from behind and you rolled your eyes, you didn’t want to deal with any more people today.

“Am I too late to ask for a dance?”. Bo asked coming to a stop next to you.

You smiled genuinely happy to see someone you cared to see, “We can’t dance, you’re on duty. For the captain of the royal guard, you’re quite reckless”.

He scoffed, “I’m allowed to take a moment here and there to myself”, the metal plates of his armor clinked as he sat down next to you. For a while, you both remained silent and watched the remaining few people in the hall.

“What is on your mind?”, he spoke. You turned your head to see him inspecting you with curiosity.

“Nothing. Just tired is all..”.

“Hn. I’d imagine working for her is no easy task. I’ve always admired you for being so resilient” he cracked a smile and you humbly accepted his compliment.

“I’d tell you to have some ale but that’d be reckless of me, wouldn’t it?”, he laughed. You gave him a slight nudge it wasn’t funny…you hadn’t had a drop of ale in months. You were always on call and after you’re too tired to go out.

“Let’s visit our old watering hole in Dale this weekend”, he said leaning back in his chair, “You can drink as much as you want. It’s on me”, he said grinning.

That’d be just the vacation you needed from all of this. “I’d love to”, you smiled back watching his grey orbs twinkle. “How do you like your new post?”, you asked trying to catch up with him.

“I like it al-”, he stopped short when he saw the queen approaching and stood up with you and bowed. She shook a little on her feet and looked a little out of sorts. Bo bowed, you did the same and after slipping your shoes back on, hurried over to her.

“What are you doing with him?”, she snapped in usual bitter tone, “I needed you hours ago, I had to get up to look for you!”, her words slurred slightly and she clung to your arm for balance. “Take me to my chambers”, she commanded.

“Yes my Queen, forgive me”, you looked over your shoulder at Bo as you lead her away.

Back in her chambers, you had undressed Misadora and made sure the fireplace was well stocked with wood for the night. After making sure she was comfortable you took your leave.

Finally, you can get some food, you sighed at your growling stomach. It wasn’t that you couldn’t have had something to eat at the celebrations, it was just that you were to encompassed in your tasks and avoiding Thorin that you hadn’t really thought of it until now.

It was morning but the halls were empty and the lights burned low in the underground palace. People were still in bed recovering from their night of feasting, save for some of the people who had important matters to tend to and the maids. You walked out of the hall that connected the Queen’s room and the main hall of the East wing.

“I assume you’re free now?”, Thorin asked.

You jumped in surprise. You had walked right past him because he was concealed by a wall. You cursed quietly and bowed in a curtsy.

“I am, your majesty. How may I serve you?”, you asked trying to seem in the earnest.

“I was hoping you’d like to keep my company for a while”, he looked well rested, unlike you and he even feigned a smile. You were about to reply when your stomach growled.

You flushed, “Excuse me, my King”.

He tilted his head slightly, “I’m hungry myself. Would you join me for breakfast?”. He made it sound like it was normal for a commoner to sit at breakfast with the King.

“What?”, you burst out in disbelief, “I mean..pardon me..”.

“I never really eat at those parties”, he said bitterly.

“Your Majesty, I can have breakfast with one of the nobles arranged for you”, you knew there were guests who retired to their chambers early last night and would be awake by now. “It’ll only take a second”, you bowed in a hurry to leave but he stopped with you with an abrupt raise of his hand.

“I’ve hand enough of their company. No one will know if that’s what you’re worried about. It’ll be private. Just you and me”.

You really couldn’t come up with an excuse to deny him what he is asking of you. Bending your head you replied, “As you wish, my King. Where would you like me to arrange breakfast for...us?”.

“It is already taken care of”, he turned around expecting you to follow, which you did. Of course, he probably had food laid out for him at every second of the day.

The walk was fairly short and all the while you were thinking about the awkwardness that is soon going to come after this.

You couldn’t say that you were surprised when you were lead into his chambers, what other room would be more private than the King’s chambers? You’ve never been in here before and it certainly made you uneasy to be standing here. The room matched the rest of the palace; stone walls with impressive carvings, extravagant tapestries, and gold accents. It was huge and was divided into many sections like the Queen’s. The room you stood in was the sitting room it hosted priceless decorations, chairs, and overstocked bookcases. The massive marble fireplace burned steadily from behind a large table which was laden with delicious delicacies. A “simple breakfast” for royalty.

You realized that you had quite forgotten about the King’s presence behind you. He cleared his throat, “Please sit”. He walked to the table and sat at one of the two places set. You quickly hurried to him and grab the pitcher of ale and began to pour the contents into his empty tankard. His coarse fingers adorned with many large, jeweled rings rested on top of your hand that held the pitcher. You froze under his heavy hand.

“That won’t be necessary. You are my guest today”, he beckoned to the chair opposite him and slowly retrieved his hand. You nodded and set the pitcher down and took a seat. Your stomach growled reminding you that you were famished. “Help yourself”, Thorin said while doing so himself. Even though you were hungry you were very uncomfortable with this whole situation. You picked out a slice of strange bread and spread a dollop of fine honey on it before proceeding to eat it.

For a while you ate in silence, thankful to be rid of the unbearable pangs of hunger. Once you were full enough to concentrate on what you were eating and savor it, you figured out that the bread was a sort of poppy seed bread and stuck to it for the most part of the meal.

“You’re quiet..”, he had been peering at you for some time now amidst picking at his food. Glancing up you half smiled, “What does one talk about with the King at breakfast? I was never educated on that matter”. His eyes gleamed as he laid back in his chair with his elbows resting on the armrests and hands clasped before him.

“You may talk about whatever pleases your fancy”, he said nonchalantly. You raised your eyebrow slightly weighing the risk of saying something wrong and as if he read your mind he added, “Speak freely, there isn’t much you could say that would offend me”

Well obviously that assumption of his would change the longer he kept you in his company, you thought sarcastically.

“My life is very uneventful, My King. I wouldn’t want to bore you”, you honestly had no idea what to say to him.

He smiled softly, “Are you being treated well here?”.

“Oh, yes. Very well”, you had no real complaints.

A short pause followed as you took a few more bites. The room was quiet save for the crackling fire and the soft clinking of silverware.

“I’ve arranged for a meeting with the Elven King”, he stated plainly. You were a little taken by surprise.

“A change of heart then? I hope it goes well, my King”.

You wondered why he cared to bring up such matters with you.

“I wouldn’t say it was a change of heart...I have no intention of bending the knee to that fairy of an elf. I hope to negotiate in other ways first”, he said stubbornly.

“Certainly. I’m sure you shall succeed”.

“Did you have a good time at the celebrations?”.

You hesitated a little, “Yes. Did you, my king?”.

“As much as my duties allowed”, he smirked knowingly.

You glanced up as a slow smile grew on your lips, “So..not much?”.

He chuckled, “I suppose we share that in common”. You sincerely doubted it.

“But it was indeed a joyous occasion. I am very happy for you, my King”, you were referring to his son’s first name day. Thorin broke away from your eyes for a second, “Thank you”, he responded curtly.

Did you say something wrong? You were exhausted and wanted to slip into the warm embrace of your bed now that you had some food - you didn’t feel like you had the energy to be nervous. Amidst your thoughts, your eyes darted around the room to keep your mind alert until they fell on one particular silver sword that hung on the wall. It looked completely out of place among the heavy, dwarven weaponry it was surrounded by.

“Is that...Orcrist?”, you asked.

He glanced up at the wall and nodded, visibly mellowing again, “You know of it?”.

You let out a laugh, “There isn’t a single soul in the kingdom that doesn’t. I just never thought I’d see it, my King”. You truly were awestruck, the stories of the battles Thorin had fought with Orcrist were legendary and it was an honor to be in its presence.

He studied your face as you admired the gleaming piece of art, “Come here”, he said abruptly rising to his feet. He stood a few inches away from the sword and beckoned you towards it. You needed no further encouragement to step up to the wall and inspect his grand collection of weapons, especially the elven sword.

“I never really liked the thing. But it has served me well”, he said from behind you. You were born in the Blue Mountains after Smaug had sacked Erebor and it has been a mere seven years since Thorin had won back the city. The weapons opened your mind to a series of fearless battle scenes, scenes you’d only imagine that Thorin had faced - you couldn’t have dreamed that they were so much more brutal.

“Thank you”, you said almost inaudibly while turning to face him.

He cocked an eyebrow at that, “For what?”.

You half smiled at him finding the courage to look him in the eye for once, “For fighting for our home. For giving us a better life. For putting your life on the line for us”.

His clear blue eyes widened by a fraction and a look of surprise slipped past his usual stoic demeanor. “It is my duty”, he said trying to figure out if you were in the earnest.

“I know”, you stepped back a little after realizing that you were standing too close to him. “But I feel like I must say it”, you lightly shrugged.

He smiled and shook his head, “No one has ever thanked me for that. I don’t think it’s customary”. You laughed, “I’m sorry to hear that, my King. On behalf of the Kingdom, I thank you with everything I’ve got”, you became very aware that he wasn’t just looking at you, he was looking into you. Mahal, how handsome he looked in the light of the fire; his strong dark brow, shadowing his deep-set eyes, his sharp nose and his lips set in a slanted smile that made you feel strange.

“You are most welcome, my lady”, he said tipping his head slightly.

Reverting your gaze back to the sword you commented, “I’ve always admired elvish craftsmanship”, you received a snide chuckled from Thorin, “Goblin-cleaver…the serpent’s tooth..”, you read the Sindarin words in Cirth runes on the blade out loud.

“You speak Sindarin?”, the amazed tone in his voice made you turn to face him again.

“Why, yes…my father was a traveling merchant when we lived in the Blue Mountains. He would be gone for months at a time to far distant places…when I was a little girl I’d go with him sometimes. We’d often trade with elvish cities, and most elvish folk were more than happy to entertain a dwarfling by sharing some of their ways”.

“A learned, dwarrowdam of the world”, he smirked, “I pray you didn’t teach them Khuzdul?”.

“Heavens no!”, you exclaimed reddening a little, “I have better sense than that, your majesty”.

“Lady, Y/n, I’m merely teasing. I wished to see more of that spirit you showed me yesterday”, he said with twinkling eyes.

You flushed redder in response.

“Forgive me. That was out of place”, he said clearing his throat.

“No, your majesty please..you have nothing to apologize for”, you smiled politely.

From somewhere in the room a clock chimed half past eight. The Queen wouldn’t be up for several hours but you had hoped to get some rest before waking up again and preparing her clothes.

“My King, is there anything else I could help you with?”, you didn’t mean to sound ungrateful or abrupt, but you had to be on your way.

“You’re not leaving so soon?”, he asked walking back to the table to grab his tankard, “Just when we were beginning to break the ice”.

You stifled a yawn and he smiled, “I see. You had quite a long day, forgive me for keeping you, lady Y/n”.

“It was a pleasure my King”, you bent in a curtsy.

He nodded and lead you to the door.

You were just about to shut the door behind you after stepping out when he called your name.

“Yes?”

“Found this outside today”, he handed you the headdress you had lost yesterday, “I hope you didn’t get in too much trouble”. It was a little dirty but you were so relieved to have gotten it back.

“Thank you..”, you said surprised, “It saves me a great deal of pain”. You had managed to borrow one of Irida’s headdresses for the party and hoped to tell the chief of staff later today. It was touching gesture.

“Rest well, my lady”.

The next few days progressed smoothly as Misadora would allow. Irida managed to rouse her temper only twice in three days which is a great improvement. Perhaps, there was hope for her yet. The King hasn’t requested your presence again neither has he called on you. You may have been right about you being a distraction to help him through a particularly rough few weeks.

It only saddened you a little. Nothing more was to be expected from him; it wasn’t like the King could be friends with a handmaiden. You didn’t care, you had the prospect of a night out on your mind.

You unhooked the clasp of the heavy necklace around Misadora’s neck and placed it in a jewelry box.

“My Queen, Irida has drawn you a bath. I must fetch some more candles for the parlor”, you said distractedly. The maid was supposed to do that but she most likely forgot to amidst her many other duties.

“Hm”, was all she could supply.

“Is there anything else you need, my Queen?”, you asked.

“No. I don’t need Irida here either”. She has been asking for more and more time alone now, she was making herself more agreeable by doing so and also stressed out the staff less.

“I’ll tell her right away”, you said leaving her to finish the last of your duties.

You changed out of your uniform and hurried to find Bo at his station outside the wall. He stood at the far side of the wall talking with another guard, he had his helmet tucked under his arm and serious expression on his face.

He turned his head when he heard you approach, “Lady Y/n, you’re early”, he took his leave from the guard and kissed your hand.

“I was dismissed early tonight”, you shrugged.

“Again?”, he inquired, “what luck. I have to be back before daybreak, so I must not drink as much tonight”, he grinned.

“I just need to get out of here for a while”, you said as you looked to the road.

Another ripple of laughter washed over the small tavern. You giggled like you heard the joke and downed your fourth tankard of mead. Bo doubled over laughing as he listened to the half drunk drawf’s tale like most people were doing. You had such a good time with Bo and the friendly people you’ve just met that you forgot about all your hardships.

“Lass, maybe you should slow down”, Bo said leaning towards you when you reached for a refill.

“I’m fine”, you insisted with a laugh.

“Bo! I hear yer in the royal guard now and also the captain”, a big dwarf slapped him on his back and shook hands, “mighty fine, you’ve done good fer yerself boy”.

“Thank you, Lord Gloin”, Bo beamed.

Gloin threw you a smile, “I’m sorry fer yer too, Bo”, he grinned, “You’re going to have to let this beauty go since yer won’t be taking no wife”, he laughed congratulating Bo one last time before moving on to the next poor soul. This was news to you.

Bo flushed pink as he looked at you in alarm, “I have no idea what he was talking about”.

“You can’t marry when you’re in the royal guard?”, you asked.

“No..it would serve as a distraction and it would not be ideal to have a family should I die while serving”, he said with one of his goofy smiles.

“I’m sorry”, you said taking his hand, “you’d have made a wonderful husband”. You didn’t know how to react and you said the first thing that popped into your head.

He gave your hand a squeeze, “Thank you”, he smiled, if he was sad his light grey eyes didn’t communicate it, “It's a relief on one hand; I’d be spared the pain of being rejected by pretty dwarrowdam”.

“Nonsense, wh-”, you stopped mid-thought when you heard a familiar voice among the din of the tavern. It was unmistakable.

You looked around and spotted him sitting at a table surrounded by his nephews and close friends.

“Bo?”, you asked not looking away, “Why is the King here?”, confusion didn’t mix well with your hazy, intoxicated mind.

“He comes in here once in a while. He doesn’t mind rubbing shoulders with us common folk. Neither do the Lords of his council. I suppose it’s because he lived among us once before”, he shrugged taking one last sip from his drink.

You watched Thorin engage in conversation with the other dwarves. He looked more relaxed than he does in court. His laugh, however deep and brief, was given more freely. “He’s a good man”, you said without thinking.

Bo gave you a funny look, “Yes, I expect he is. Never mistreated me, that’s for sure”.

“Well someone has to go tell the barmaid that our table is out of ale”, the dwarf to your right said over the commotion and music.

“I’ll do it”, Bo offered leaving you to behind. You listened to the conversation around you but soon found that it wasn’t to your liking anymore; they spoke of trade and taxes”. You fiddled with the long crocheted sleeves of your dress.

“While we wait, care to dance?”, one of the younger dwarves at the table beamed at you.

You accepted politely and did your best to not trip over your own feet. Finding that the alcohol had loosened your inhibitions, you realized that you were enjoying yourself, your heart raced as you were spun around and your feet did their best to keep to the tune of the song.

“Watch yourself there lass”, Visen, the dwarf you were dancing with chuckled as you almost lost your balance. But you hadn’t a care in the world.

When the song ended you were giddy for more and you clapped heartily with the rest of them for the musicians. You looked around for Bo but instead, you locked eyes with Thorin who was still in his spot across the room. Slowly your lips turned in a smile and a ghost of one passed his lips while offering you a small nod in greeting.

“Y/n, I should be heading back to the wall”, Bo said apologetically, “I hate to be a wet blanket, but I must insist on walking you back. I won’t rest easy if I left you here alone”.

“I’m not alone”, you giggled while wobbling a little on your feet. His arm came around you to steady you, “Mmhmm, yes, well let's get you home anyway”.

You let him lead you towards the door but before you stepped out, you looked at where Thorin had been sitting to find that he was gone.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I can’t take you all the way inside, I’m late as it is. You’ll be alright?”, Bo asked worriedly.

“Yes”, you laughed amused by his needless concern, “Go, don’t let your career suffer on my behalf”, you began climbing the steps of the back entrance, “Thank you for a great night, Bo”.

“Pleasant dreams, my lady!”, he called as he hurried down the steps and away from you.

Walking down the dimly lit halls to your room, you quietly ran through the list of chores for tomorrow. What you wouldn’t give to have this small “vacation” stretch a little further. You were nearing the hall of your chambers when you heard the heavy thud of a pair of boots behind you.

“Y/n”.

You turned, “Your majesty”, you bowed.

“I expected you’d still be away”, he said with an unreadable expression.

“I would have liked to have been, but my escort had to return”, you tried your best to not sound drunk.

“I was about to retire to my chambers as well”, he said in a cool tone. From what little light the torches provided, you saw that he looked tired and a little impatient. He was the same dwarf you had seen at the tavern but somehow he was different.

“I trust you had a good night, my King”, you asked with a hint of curiosity in your tone that he picked up on at once.

“Good enough. I understand that you did too. Shame it had to end early for you”.

You shrugged, “I just miss the mead”.

A light chuckle escaped him, “If that is all you desire, I would be more than happy to provide you with it”.

“I couldn’t possibly, your majesty”, you said flustered.

He wasn’t listening, “Come now”, he beckoned you to follow, “I thought we were past that”.

Soon you were sitting down in his study with a goblet of spiced mead in front of the fireplace.

“I hope you’re comfortable”, he said sitting down on a red, plush armchair from across the giant, matching settee you sat in.

“Quite”, you said in between sips; you never thought mad could taste this divine - smooth as butter.

You felt warm and cozy in this space surrounded by books, quills and paintings, the ambiance coupled with the mead instantly re-awoke your social side.

“Not going to join me?”, you asked motioning to his untouched goblet. He looked away from the fire at you.

He looked liked he was a thousand miles away before you said anything, the fine lines around his eyes creased as he smiled at you, “A challenge?”. He raised the goblet to his lips and drank its contents.

“No..”, you wouldn’t dream of such a thing, “If it were, I’d beat you..my King”, you smiled playfully.

“Is that so? Care to try your luck then?”, it was a silly game, but Thorin never turned down a challenge.

“I’d be delighted”.

Your head was spinning and your fingers were tingling. But in the most delightful way. The world played out a little slower and let you revel a little longer in the fleeting moments. Thorin’s gruff laughter echoed in your ears as you finished your drink and lied back down on the cushions.

“Give up, my lady?”.

You squeezed your eyes shut and smiled while sinking further into the settee, “I do”, you said nodding, “You win, my King. I suppose you win everything”, you said opening your eyes.

“Well..not everything”, he said placing his feet on an ottoman.

You had been drinking together for quite some time now and you had talked about many things; being intoxicated made it much easier to talk to each other.

You looked down at your feet which rested on the opposite end of the settee, how did you manage to take your shoes off and fully lie down?

“Had I been sober, I’d be ashamed of myself for the state I’m in..in front of you”, you lulled feeling completely at ease.

“Then I pray you’re never sober”, he chuckled swishing the mead around in the goblet.

You couldn’t help giggling, “It’s not proper. In polite society th-”.

“Polite society be damned”, he said snorting, “I’d rather have people be themselves”.

You turned your fuzzy head and smiled at him.

“What?”, he asked cocking his head.

“Why do you insist on keeping me in your company?”.

His lips settled into a thin line like he was stalling. "Does it matter?".

"I suppose not..", you said sitting up. The room tilted and swayed in your vision, "But one might get the wrong impression when their King cannot take his eyes off them", you laughed.

Thorin didn't appear to be fazed, he merely matched your smirk, "Lady y/n, I do believe you're drunk".

“And I believe you’re trying to change the subject”.

“I’m not”, he laid his head back against the padding of the chair and gazed at you through his lashes. “If you do not wish to be in my presence, you only have to say so”.

“No, I didn’t mean in that way”, you said reaching for the goblet that rested on a low table a few inches away from you.

You saw him raise an eyebrow at your actions, silently questioning if you should really have more but he chose to keep silent.

“I thought it was obvious”, he said slowly, “You’re educated, tolerant and you don’t expect anything from me”.

You didn’t realize that you had frozen with the goblet at your lips. You were amazed that he had such high regard for you; a person he barely spoke to. You blinked wondering if you’d heard him right did he mean that you weren’t after his money or his favor?.

“Or am I mistaken?”, his deep voice made you fall back into reality.

“No..of course not... I desire nothing from you, my King”, you laid your head back down against the cushions to rest your eyes. “I only wish to serve”.

The warmth of the fire and the comfort of the silk, fluffy settee almost drove you into an unconscious sleep. You felt warm, coarse fingers on yours that held the goblet.

“I believe you”.

You forced your eyes half open to see him on one knee in front of you. He took the goblet away from you and set it down on the table. You couldn’t collect your thoughts, you knew you should be feeling tense but your body felt light as a feather and more relaxed in a while.

“I also feel like..there is something pure and good about you”, you saw his lips slant in a smirk as he uttered those words, but you couldn’t comprehend them.

“I’m so tired”, it was barely a whisper, your head was spinning and your eyes could barely focus on his cerulean irises.

“I know”, he replied, his voice hardly broke through the haze, “so am I”.

You let your eyes slide shut and prepare to slip into a deep, dreamless sleep. With what little consciousness you wondered why the last part of what Thorin said sounded like a confession. But not a confession of his physical fatigue. Whatever ideas you had about the King dissolved away for the night and you slept soundly.

#thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #fanfcition #thorin fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #fluff #the king's favor

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hello-stensy-blog · 6 years

Text

Political Incident , Chapter II : Duel

Even after a fine night of sleep, Armitage was still feeling exhausted. I can’t believe I am to endure this for a full week, He thought. Dealing with Kylo Ren was not planned. The latest news reported that Kylo had been leading a frivolous life in the south after a few episodes of strife against southern tribes. What was he doing here now, exactly? During the previous day’s feast, Brendol Hux could not stop asking Kylo questions, praising the knight’s prowess. As If Kylo Ren was not big-headed enough, Hux thought to himself as he was walking the dark corridors of Arkanis’ castle. The knights of Ren and their master had a reputation as skilled warriors, so of course Brendol Hux was interested. He saw in Kylo Ren what he could not see in his own son, as he considered Armitage “less than a man” and “a sissy”. Brendol Hux did not even try to hide the fact he was more interested in Kylo Ren than in his motherーhis actual guest. In Leia’s place, Armitage would have been outraged by such rude behaviour. His father taught him to stand for no insult--except his father’s, those were habits. It was dawn. Armitage arrived in the training room the same hour as usual. His schedule was built from A to Z by his father, seemingly since birth. He saluted his sword instructor and the session began. Even if the day was young, Armitage’s mind was sharp: he was entirely focused, ready to confront his teacher, and it was not long until he actually defeated him. If he hadn’t been using a phony sword, he would have pierced right through him. They moved on to another session, and as Armitage turned his back to return to his previous position, the door opened. He turned, expecting his father alone, but there was one more accompanying him: Kylo Ren had joined the little party as well. Always showing up when least needed, Armitage thought with annoyance. Both Armitage and his sword instructor saluted the newcomers respectfully, even though Armitage would rather ignore the knight of Ren.

-Do not mind us. Carry on, Brendol Hux ordered.

Armitage nodded. He had to focus even more now. It was one thing to fail Brendol Hux, it was worse failing him in front of guests. Especially if the guests were considered by Brendol his equal. He tightened the grip on his sword and proceeded to fight his instructor with swiftness and elegance. The game was serious. Either strike or be stricken. Everything was burning--Armitage’s anxiety, his muscles, Brendol’s gaze on him; both their prides and those marks on Armitage’s skin. But he passed the test, once again. He couldn’t help but display a slight satisfied smile afterwards. This smile quickly disappeared as he heard Kylo Ren say:

-I’ll take you on.

The Ren descendant approached, and the sword instructor handed him his phony sword. Ren scoffed.

-No way, he said.

He then took his own real sword from his belt.

-Are you serious? Armitage asked with a despising tone.

-Are you scared?

That was enough. Armitage dryly asked a servant to grab his real sword, keeping strong eye contact with Kylo Ren. Following the etiquette of duels, he turned his back and asked:

-Shall we begin?

The only answer he got was the sound of Kylo’s movement on the ground, fast and heavy. Armitage quickly turned back and guarded just in time. He was offended. This beast has absolutely no manners! You have no right to strike an opponent before the duel begins, and the duel does NOT begin before the two opponents are facing!

- Good reflexes, General, Kylo said, pressing against his sword to make Hux step back and lose ground.

-At least I play a fair game.

-Battles are not about being fair, it’s all about domination.

Ren's bare strength was too much for Hux to take. If he kept this up, he would fall to the ground. Quickly, his sword slipped against Ren's. His response was immediate, he tried to hit Hux again with a circular slash. Hux had just enough time to drop, rise, and parry again. Defense was all he could do, as the knight was particularly brutal.

I can’t lose to him, I can’t.

But there was no other way. Ren was merciless. Hux’s body could not handle it all. He has resisted defeat quite long for someone of his stature, Ren thought, but it is time to put an end to this game. After a final sword blow, Armitage Hux fell to the ground. As if the embarrassment wasn’t enough, Kylo Ren smiled at him in a very contented way. He put his sword back into its sheath and began to walk away. Armitage’s breath was short, both from the fight and the rising anger inside of him. In an act of vengeance, he took out his gun. He was best at shooting, after all, and quickly aimed at the man’s head before pulling the trigger. The bullet was close to hit Ren’s head, but ultimately missed. Ren turned back. Unfortunately for Hux, it just made his embarrassment worse as Ren simply said “You missed me.” before leaving. Brendol Hux sent the servant and the sword instructor away to be alone with his son. Armitage’s whole body already ached from the fight, and his father’s presence made it worse. Armitage was beaten to the ground, but his mind was somewhere else, internally swearing that he will get revenge, that someday he will make Kylo Ren regret the day he was conceived.

***********************************************

Leia Ren was walking around the castle. She was not at peace. As expected, the situation was a disaster, and not only because Brendol Hux was far worse from what she pictured. Her host seemed fond of her son at least, but the same could not be said about his son Armitage. If he was as short tempered as her son, this could end up becoming a war instead of a diplomatic meeting. She had dined alone with Brendol. According to him, his General-of-a-son had other things planned for his day. Leia bet it was the same for her own son. She hoped that he wouldn’t find a way to get himself into trouble while she was not there to look after him. It feels like he never grew up. She had felt the ground, tried to approach Brendol about the reasons for her visit. She was outspoken, but not a fool. She chose her words carefully, but she did mention the hostile climate his ways brought into their world. She had a whole monologue without being interrupted once. Brendol was staring at his plate, but not like a grounded child. He was eating as if nothing was going on around him, as if she did not exist. She had seen this behavior in some men before. She had seen her own father not give her a single look as she denigrated what he had built in front of him.

-Are you listening?

He gave her a quick look. In his eyes, she saw nothing but boredom and a glimpse of annoyance.

-I am. Are you done?

-Why? Do you have anything to answer?

-I do, actually. I think you are not one to tell me what to do.

-Excuse me?

-You are not from Arkanis. Your country is warm and wealthy. Your people have no worries in the world, beside planning the next party, festival, orgy. Your morality is weak because your people are bored, they give up their integrity just to feel alive. Here, everyday is a struggle: a struggle against cold, hunger, or scornful outsiders. Since I took over for our coward king who could not even look your father in the eyes without fainting, our wealth has increased. We are not enslaved to your regime anymore, and my people can finally have their pride back. My hand is firm, it is what Arkanis requires. If terrorists walk around your cities, shoving their filth to your face, you have to act out or they’ll own you.

Leia did not expect Brendol to mention her father's dictatorship. She couldn't believe he justified his behavior with such revolting accusations. She was not to blame for what Lord Vader made under his administration: she had fought him with all her might until there was no breath left in him! He was also trying to make the poor people he killed look bad, as if it was their own fault, as if his actions were born from an indisputable logic. She answered:

-History proved that peace is brought by acceptance and freedom, not executions and terror.

-That’s your interpretation, dear.

The rest of the meal went the same way. In the end, she was in a bad enough mood not to care that her host was asked for other matters outside of the castle right after. She then decided to look around for her son and make sure he was not already hanged for depraved behavior, terrorist acts, or whatever Brendol was calling it. She did not find him until the end of the day. Kylo came back with his knights. It seemed like they were scouting the surroundings on their horses. They were all wearing their helmets, looking absolutely dreadful. They returned their horses to the stables. They were about to continue towards the castle when they saw the queen regent, and all bowed to her before continuing on. All of them except Jeha, her son’s most loyal subordinate. She gave him a forced smile and asked him:

-Will you please let me have a private discussion with my son, Jeha?

Jeha turned to his master, who dismissed him. He obeyed reluctantly. Kylo asked his mother under his mask.

-What is it?

-Will you please take off that thing for your mother?

Kylo did, which was a relief to her. Dealing with masked men was not her predilection. Especially since Kylo didn't need one.

-Better?

-Yes, thank you.

They silently walked around the castle. Leia broke that silence and asked:

-I haven't seen you since last night. Where have you been all this time?

-Is this an interrogation?

-Only if you have something to hide.

-You think I do?

-I don't know. I couldn't help but notice you don’t get along with Hux's son.

Leia tried to read the expression of her son: he looked amused, and she had no idea whether it was a good sign or not.

-Did something happen that I don’t know of?

-We had a duel, this morning.

Whether that was metaphorical or not, this couldn’t be good news for Leia in this situation.

-Don't give me that look! He was sword training. I gave him a lesson.

-Did you win?

-Are you seriously asking? Should I feel insulted?

-Did he?

Kylo rolled his eyes, something she hated seeing him do.

-Stop freaking out, Mother. It was not serious.

For once, she sincerely hoped he was right. She wouldn't like telling “I told you so” to her only son's corpse. Her apprehension grew during supper. Kylo and Armitage were facing one another at the table, and even though Armitage barely looked at him, remaining absolutely silent, she could feel the tension in the air between the two. Brendol is already not pleased with me, I'd rather not see my son become an object of conflict as well. Before going back to her room for the night, she had a talk with her son.

*****************************************

As he was getting in bed in his night clothes, Armitage heard footsteps in the hallway that stopped right in front of his bedroom door. He raised an eyebrow and waited. After a few seconds, someone eventually knocked. After being invited to, the person opened the door. It revealed a state of Kylo Ren Armitage had yet not experienced--indeed, a very revealing Kylo Ren. The dark haired prince was topless in the frame of Armitage's door. Dreadful thoughts came through Hux's mind all at once: what is he doing here why is he naked is he going to abuse me what if my father sees him at my door dressed like that? Hux's face was as tense as it could be, while Kylo's expressed nothing.

-Is there a problem with your room, 'Lord Ren'?

Even in distress, Hux couldn't help but to ask it with a sneer. Kylo had been called Lord Ren by Brendol Hux since he arrived, which annoyed his son quite a lot, especially after the events of the morning. This guy is nothing like a lord anymore--if he ever was deserving of the title! He basically lives like hound dogs do: in a pack, going from fighting to mating. God, I do hope we do not reach the mating part.

-My room is alright.

-Then what pleasure -he articulated the word pleasure with sass- brings you to my bedroom so late at night? You must have had your fill of good manners already.

Armitage obviously needed revenge. He waited for Kylo to strike back, but he did not. He stared at him for a while and Armitage thought that he won this round until Kylo gave him a smug smile.

-I like your style, Kylo said, walking in Hux’s room at a slow pace.

He was simply giving himself a tour. Hux frowned in surprise.

-I beg your pardon?

-At least you are not some ass licker like your father.

Hux was caught by surprise by Ren’s boldness. It made him let out a shocked laugh. Before he could even reply Kylo, leaned on his library, exclaimed with excitement.

-The Dark Side’s chronicles! You have all the volumes!

-Of course I do. It is a classic.

Kylo did not bother to ask and took one of the heavy volumes, inspecting it with highest regard. Hux’s edition was ancient, probably more than the one Kylo owned. It was stunning. Kylo had more respect for Hux now that he knew he owned his grandfather’s absolute masterpiece--six volumes of reflections on his life, the art of war and ruling. Kylo always regretted that he could not carry such heavy books everywhere with him as he was traveling a lot, because he was always inspired by his grandfather’s greatness, clairvoyance and writing talent. Instead, he kept his copies in his room at his family’s castle. Leia hated that her son was so fond of her father. In Lord Vader, she saw nothing but a tyrant. In those books Kylo cherished so much, she found nothing but the bragging of a warlord and the whining of a fool who was never over his young, tragically dead love--even though he was the reason her mother died in the first place.

-Did you read it all?

-Of course I did. They are highly instructional.

And beautiful, too, Kylo wanted to add. He did not, to avoid Hux’s judgement. To everyone, Kylo Ren was remembered as a free spirit, a formidable opponent or a great lover--never as romantic trash. Indeed, he was quite fond of the idea of love at first sight, destiny and faithfulness in feelings, but no one needed to know that. He liked the way he was portrayed and didn’t want this to change for anything. Hux still had no idea what the hell was going on.

-What is this all about, Ren?

-I came to talk about this morning.

Great. Sounds like fun. I love to be reminded of my failures. Armitage sighed and asked:

-What about it?

-You're pretty pissed, aren't you?

-You fought quite dishonestly!

-You are a General. Am I to blame for expecting a General to act like one?

Armitage was biting his lips. He was a General, alright, but he had never actually stepped foot on the battlefield. It's just a title. A title I don't deserve, according to a certain person. Armitage admitted to himself: Maybe I was delusional about this duel. This Ren guy is a beast, of course he was to act like one. And maybe he is right: there are no rules in real wars. That still didn't make up for the humiliation Hux faced and the punishment that followed. Kylo then added:

-Still, when you shot…

He stopped right there, smiling to himself in contemplation of this memory. Hux looked at the warm halo that his candle traced around Kylo. There was something surreal about this man: his strength, his way to act. All of this was new to Armitage. Arkanis people were nothing like him. He was fascinatingly odd. And annoying. Mostly annoying. Kylo’s eyes met Armitage’s again, and he added:

-That was a surprise.

-That will teach you not to underestimate me again. I am full of surprises.

Hux believed it, or he wanted to. He wanted Kylo to take him seriously. They maintained eye contact for a while before Kylo said:

-I understand your father planned a hunting trip tomorrow. We should get some sleep.

-That’s right.

Kylo Ren left his room. Armitage sighed, extinguishing the candle. Lying in the dark in his lonely room, he thought about Kylo Ren showing up shirtless in his room. He had no idea why he came. He scoffed.

That was absolutely useless.

Creep.

Dumbass.

What the hell does everyone see in you?

#kylux fic #kylux au #kylo ren #armitage hux #kylo is embarassing

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readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

27 The anthem booms in my ears, and then I hear Caesar Flickerman greeting the audience. Does he know how crucial it is to get every word right from now on? He must. He will want to help us. The crowd breaks into applause as the prep teams are presented. I imagine Flavius, Venia, and Octavia bouncing around and taking ridiculous, bobbing bows. It's a safe bet they're clueless. Then Effie's introduced. How long she's waited for this moment. I hope she's able to enjoy it because as misguided as Effie can be, she has a very keen instinct about certain things and must at least suspect we're in trouble. Portia and Cinna receive huge cheers, of course, they've been brilliant, had a dazzling debut. I now understand Cinna's choice of dress for me for tonight. I'll need to look as girlish and innocent as possible. Haymitch's appearance brings a round of stomping that goes on at least five minutes. Well, he's accomplished a first. Keeping not only one but two tributes alive. What if he hadn't warned me in time? Would I have acted differently? Flaunted the moment with the berries in the Capitol's face? No, I don't think so. But I could easily have been a lot less convincing than I need to be now. Right now. Because I can feel the plate lifting me up to the stage. Blinding lights. The deafening roar rattles the metal under my feet. Then there's Peeta just a few yards away. He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms. He staggers back, almost losing his balance, and that's when I realize the slim, metal contraption in his hand is some kind of cane. He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane. He's kissing me and all the time I'm thinking, Do you know? Do you know how much danger we're in? After about ten minutes of this, Caesar Flickerman taps on his shoulder to continue the show, and Peeta just pushes him aside without even glancing at him. The audience goes berserk. Whether he knows or not, Peeta is, as usual, playing the crowd exactly right. Finally, Haymitch interrupts us and gives us a good-natured shove toward the victor's chair. Usually, this is a single, ornate chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the highlights of the Games, but since there are two of us, the Gamemakers have provided a plush red velvet couch. A small one, my mother would call it a love seat, I think. I sit so close to Peeta that I'm practically on his lap, but one look from Haymitch tells me it isn't enough. Kicking off my sandals, I tuck my feet to the side and lean my head against Peeta's shoulder. His arm goes around me automatically, and I feel like I'm back in the cave, curled up against him, trying to keep warm. His shirt is made of the same yellow material as my dress, but Portia's put him in long black pants. No sandals, either, but a pair of sturdy black boots he keeps solidly planted on the stage. I wish Cinna had given me a similar outfit, I feel so vulnerable in this flimsy dress. But I guess that was the point. Caesar Flickerman makes a few more jokes, and then it's time for the show. This will last exactly three hours and is required viewing for all of Panem. As the lights dim and the seal appears on the screen, I realize I'm unprepared for this. I do not want to watch my twenty-two fellow tributes die. I saw enough of them die the first time. My heart starts pounding and I have a strong impulse to run. How have the other victors faced this alone? During the highlights, they periodically show the winner's reaction up on a box in the corner of the screen. I think back to earlier years. some are triumphant, pumping their fists in the air, beating their chests. Most just seem stunned. All I know is that the only thing keeping me on this love seat is Peeta - his arm around my shoulder, his other hand claimed by both of mine. Of course, the previous victors didn't have the Capitol looking for a way to destroy them. Condensing several weeks into three hours is quite a feat, especially when you consider how many cameras were going at once. Whoever puts together the highlights has to choose what sort of story to tell. This year, for the first time, they tell a love story. I know Peeta and I won, but a disproportionate amount of time is spent on us, right from the beginning. I'm glad though, because it supports the whole crazy-in-love thing that's my defense for defying the Capitol, plus it means we won't have as much time to linger over the deaths. The first half hour or so focuses on the pre-arena events, the reaping, the chariot ride through the Capitol, our training scores, and our interviews. There's this sort of upbeat soundtrack playing under it that makes it twice as awful because, of course, almost everyone on-screen is dead. Once we're in the arena, there's detailed coverage of the bloodbath and then the filmmakers basically alternate between shots of tributes dying and shots of us. Mostly Peeta really, there's no question he's carrying this romance thing on his shoulders. Now I see what the audience saw, how he misled the Careers about me, stayed awake the entire night under the tracker jacker tree, fought Cato to let me escape and even while he lay in that mud bank, whispered my name in his sleep. I seem heartless in comparison - dodging fireballs, dropping nests, and blowing up supplies - until I go hunting for Rue. They play her death in full, the spearing, my failed rescue attempt, my arrow through the boy from District 1's throat, Rue drawing her last breath in my arms. And the song. I get to sing every note of the song. Something inside me shuts down and I'm too numb to feel anything. It's like watching complete strangers in another Hunger Games. But I do notice they omit the part where I covered her in flowers. Right. Because even that smacks of rebellion. Things pick up for me once they've announced two tributes from the same district can live and I shout out Peeta's name and then clap my hands over my mouth. If I've seemed indifferent to him earlier, I make up for it now, by finding him, nursing him back to health, going to the feast for the medicine, and being very free with my kisses. Objectively, I can see the mutts and Cato's death are as gruesome as ever, but again, I feel it happens to people I have never met. And then comes the moment with the berries. I can hear the audience hushing one another, not wanting to miss anything. A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, screaming Peeta's name as they try to revive him. In terms of survival, it's my best moment all night. The anthem's playing yet again and we rise as President Snow himself takes the stage followed by a little girl carrying a cushion that holds the crown. There's just one crown, though, and you can hear the crowd's confusion - whose head will he place it on? - until President Snow gives it a twist and it separates into two halves. He places the first around Peeta's brow with a smile. He's still smiling when he settles the second on my head, but his eyes, just inches from mine, are as unforgiving as a snake's. That's when I know that even though both of us would have eaten the berries, I am to blame for having the idea. I'm the instigator. I'm the one to be punished. Much bowing and cheering follows. My arm is about to fall off from waving when Caesar Flickerman finally bids the audience good night, reminding them to tune in tomorrow for the final interviews. As if they have a choice. Peeta and I are whisked to the president's mansion for the Victory Banquet, where we have very little time to eat as Capitol officials and particularly generous sponsors elbow one another out of the way as they try to get their picture with us. Face after beaming face flashes by, becoming increasingly intoxicated as the evening wears on. Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of Haymitch, which is reassuring, or President Snow, which is terrifying, but I keep laughing and thanking people and smiling as my picture is taken. The one thing I never do is let go of Peeta's hand. The sun is just peeking over the horizon when we straggle back to the twelfth floor of the Training Center. I think now I'll finally get a word alone with Peeta, but Haymitch sends him off with Portia to get something fitted for the interview and personally escorts me to my door. "Why can't I talk to him?" I ask. "Plenty of time for talk when we get home," says Haymitch. "Go to bed, you're on air at two." Despite Haymitch's running interference, I'm determined to see Peeta privately. After I toss and turn for a few hours, I slip into the hall. My first thought is to check the roof, but it's empty. Even the city streets far below are deserted after the celebration last night. I go back to bed for a while and then decide to go directly to his room, but when I try to turn the knob, I find my own bedroom door has been locked from the outside. I suspect Haymitch initially, but then there's a more insidious fear that the Capitol may by monitoring and confining me. I've been unable to escape since the Hunger Games began, but this feels different, much more personal. This feels like I've been imprisoned for a crime and I'm awaiting sentencing. I quickly get back in bed and pretend to sleep until Effie Trinket comes to alert me to the start of another "big, big, big day!" I have about five minutes to eat a bowl of hot grain and stew before the prep team descends. All I have to say is, "The crowd loved you!" and it's unnecessary to speak for the next couple of hours. When Cinna comes in, he shoos them out and dresses me in a white, gauzy dress and pink shoes. Then he personally adjusts my makeup until I seem to radiate a soft, rosy glow. We make idle chitchat, but I'm afraid to ask him anything of real importance because after the incident with the door, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched constantly. The interview takes place right down the hall in the sitting room. A space has been cleared and the love seat has been moved in and surrounded by vases of red and pink roses. There are only a handful of cameras to record the event. No live audience at least. Caesar Flickerman gives me a warm hug when I. come in. "Congratulations, Katniss. How are you faring?" "Fine. Nervous about the interview," I say. "Don't be. We're going to have a fabulous time," he says, giving my cheek a reassuring pat. "I'm not good at talking about myself," I say. "Nothing you say will be wrong," he says. And I think, Oh, Caesar, if only that were true. But actually, President Snow may be arranging some sort of "accident" for me as we speak. Then Peeta's there looking handsome in red and white, pulling me off to the side. "I hardly get to see you. Haymitch seems bent on keeping us apart." Haymitch is actually bent on keeping us alive, but there are too many ears listening, so I just say, "Yes, he's gotten very responsible lately." "Well, there's just this and we go home. Then he can't watch us all the time," says Peeta. I feel a sort of shiver run through me and there's no time to analyze why, because they're ready for us. We sit somewhat formally on the love seat, but Caesar says, "Oh, go ahead and curl up next to him if you want. It looked very sweet." So I tuck my feet up and Peeta pulls me in close to him. Someone counts backward and just like that, we're being broadcast live to the entire country. Caesar Flickerman is wonderful, teasing, joking, getting choked up when the occasion presents itself. He and Peeta already have the rapport they established that night of the first interview, that easy banter, so I just smile a lot and try to speak as little as possible. I mean, I have to talk some, but as soon as I can I redirect the conversation back to Peeta. Eventually though, Caesar begins to pose questions that insist on fuller answers. "Well, Peeta, we know, from our days in the cave, that it was love at first sight for you from what, age five?" Caesar says. "From the moment I laid eyes on her," says Peeta. "But, Katniss, what a ride for you. I think the real excitement for the audience was watching you fall for him. When did you realize you were in love with him?" asks Caesar. "Oh, that's a hard one. " I give a faint, breathy laugh and look down at my hands. Help. "Well, I know when it hit me. The night when you shouted out his name from that tree," says Caesar. Thank you, Caesar! I think, and then go with his idea. "Yes, I guess that was it. I mean, until that point, I just tried not to think about what my feelings might be, honestly, because it was so confusing and it only made things worse if I actually cared about him. But then, in the tree, everything changed," I say. "Why do you think that was?" urges Caesar. "Maybe. because for the first time. there was a chance I could keep him," I say. Behind a cameraman, I see Haymitch give a sort of huff with relief and I know I've said the right thing. Caesar pulls out a handkerchief and has to take a moment because he's so moved. I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, "So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?" I turn in to him. "Put you somewhere you can't get hurt." And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh. For Caesar, this is a natural place to segue into all the ways we did get hurt in the arena, from burns, to stings, to wounds. But it's not until we get around to the mutts that I forget I'm on camera. When Caesar asks Peeta how his "new leg" is working out. "New leg?" I say, and I can't help reaching out and pulling up the bottom of Peeta's pants. "Oh, no," I whisper, taking in the metal-and-plastic device that has replaced his flesh. "No one told you?" asks Caesar gently. I shake my head. "I haven't had the chance," says Peeta with a slight shrug. "It's my fault," I say. "Because I used that tourniquet." "Yes, it's your fault I'm alive," says Peeta. "He's right," says Caesar. "He'd have bled to death for sure without it." I guess this is true, but I can't help feeling upset about it to the extent that I'm afraid I might cry and then I remember everyone in the country is watching me so I just bury my face in Peeta's shirt. It takes them a couple of minutes to coax me back out because it's better in the shirt, where no one can see me, and when I do come out, Caesar backs off questioning me so I can recover. In fact, he pretty much leaves me alone until the berries come up. "Katniss, I know you've had a shock, but I've got to ask. The moment when you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind. hm?" he says. I take a long pause before I answer, trying to collect my thoughts. This is the crucial moment where I either challenged the Capitol or went so crazy at the idea of losing Peeta that I can't be held responsible for my actions. It seems to call for a big, dramatic speech, but all I get out is one almost inaudible sentence. "I don't know, I just. couldn't bear the thought of. being without him." "Peeta? Anything to add?" asks Caesar. "No. I think that goes for both of us," he says. Caesar signs off and it's over. Everyone's laughing and crying and hugging, but I'm still not sure until I reach Haymitch. "Okay?" I whisper. "Perfect," he answers. I go back to my room to collect a few things and find there's nothing to take but the mockingjay pin Madge gave me. Someone returned it to my room after the Games. They drive us through the streets in a car with blackened windows, and the train's waiting for us. We barely have time to say good-bye to Cinna and Portia, although we'll see them in a few months, when we tour the districts for a round of victory ceremonies. It's the Capitol's way of reminding people that the Hunger Games never really go away. We'll be given a lot of useless plaques, and everyone will have to pretend they love us. The train begins moving and we're plunged into night until we clear the tunnel and I take my first free breath since the reaping. Effie is accompanying us back and Haymitch, too, of course. We eat an enormous dinner and settle into silence in front of the television to watch a replay of the interview. With the Capitol growing farther away every second, I begin to think of home. Of Prim and my mother. Of Gale. I excuse myself to change out of my dress and into a plain shirt and pants. As I slowly, thoroughly wash the makeup from my face and put my hair in its braid, I begin transforming back into myself. Katniss Everdeen. A girl who lives in the Seam. Hunts in the woods. Trades in the Hob. I stare in the mirror as I try to remember who I am and who I am not. By the time I join the others, the pressure of Peeta's arm around my shoulders feels alien. When the train makes a brief stop for fuel, we're allowed to go outside for some fresh air. There's no longer any need to guard us. Peeta and I walk down along the track, hand in hand, and I can't find anything to say now that we're alone. He stops to gather a bunch of wildflowers for me. When he presents them, I work hard to look pleased. Because he can't know that the pink-and-white flowers are the tops of wild onions and only remind me of the hours I've spent gathering them with Gale. Gale. The idea of seeing Gale in a matter of hours makes my stomach churn. But why? I can't quite frame it in my mind. I only know that I feel like I've been lying to someone who trusts me. Or more accurately, to two people. I've been getting away with it up to this point because of the Games. But there will be no Games to hide behind back home. "What's wrong?" Peeta asks. "Nothing," I answer. We continue walking, past the end of the train, out where even I'm fairly sure there are no cameras hidden in the scrubby bushes along the track. Still no words come. Haymitch startles me when he lays a hand on my back. Even now, in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down. "Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay." I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta's eyes. "What's he mean?" Peeta asks me. "It's the Capitol. They didn't like our stunt with the berries," I blurt out. "What? What are you talking about?" he says. "It seemed too rebellious. So, Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn't make it worse," I say. "Coaching you? But not me," says Peeta. "He knew you were smart enough to get it right," I say. "I didn't know there was anything to get right," says Peeta. "So, what you're saying is, these last few days and then I guess. back in the arena. that was just some strategy you two worked out." "No. I mean, I couldn't even talk to him in the arena, could I?" I stammer. "But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn't you?" says Peeta. I bite my lip. "Katniss?" He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance. "It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted." "Not all of it," I say, tightly holding onto my flowers. "Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says. "I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none's forthcoming. "Well, let me know when you work it out," he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable. I know my ears are healed because, even with the rumble of the engine, I can hear every step he takes back to the train. By the time I've climbed aboard, Peeta has disappiared into his room for the night. I don't see him the next morning, either. In fact, the next time he turns up, we're pulling into District 12. He gives me a nod, his face expressionless. I want to tell him that he's not being fair. That we were strangers. That I did what it took to stay alive, to keep us both alive in the arena. That I can't explain how things are with Gale because I don't know myself. That it's no good loving me because I'm never going to get married anyway and he'd just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn't matter because I'll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we've just been through? I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn't be fair on my part. So we just stand there silently, watching our grimy little station rise up around us. Through the window, I can see the platform's thick with cameras. Everyone will be eagerly watching our homecoming. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. "One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go. END

#HungerGames

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