Chapter Text
Katniss watched the TV with her sister, their hands clasping like a vice around each other as the president announced the twist of the third quarter quell.
“And now we honour our third Quarter Quell,” says the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as he opens the lid. We can see the tidy, upright rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president removes an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He runs his finger under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder that the capital decisions are benevolent, the male and female tributes will be chosen by the president of Panem personally.”
Katniss let out a horrible breath soon unsure if this was a good thing, she blinked… what was his plan? If Snow really wanted to he could rig the reaping every single year. No… he wanted everyone to know he was rigging the reaping this year. She furrowed her brows, but that puts him at a disadvantage- doesn’t it? This year it will be obvious who he’s trying to punish… which means he wount pick Prim! If he picks prim it will tell the nation he is punishing me. If it was just a normal reaping.
Katniss turned and the president let out a short chuckle, “Well, I suppose that means I have to give the districts a visit to see my options.” At those words, Katniss shuddered. She could already smell the blood and roses. This was her territory, her land and she would not have him sully it with his presence. Unfortunately, the date was set, and in two weeks President Snow would be roaming around in District 12. Katniss briefly wondered if this was a wise decision, more people wanted the president dead than they did alive after all.
Without another word, she shot up her hands at her sides as she ran to Hamich’s house. She needed answers and she needed them now. Snow was too strategic for this to be an accident. He was about to let violent retribution rain down upon the districts—Katniss in particular.
She winced as she continued to walk to Haymitch’s house. She still had no idea what she had done in her games to earn the man's ire. Perhaps it was because she was so unmemorable as a victor. At 14 she had scrapped victory from the jaws of defeat. With little to no help from Hamitch mind you- people forgot she existed and that’s just what she wanted, and from what Finnick had told her that was all for the best. Not like the victor from last year, she honestly felt bad for Rue. She was far too young to be in the games- let alone have to deal with the legacy of being the youngest victor ever. She had met her last year and could easily say she was the most deserving victor. She frowned thinking of the boy- Thresh- who had sacrificed himself to make sure she had won. Katniss could barely believe it happened, but it did. She just hoped Rue was young enough to forget the horror, to move on with her life.
Unlike the two living victors of 12.
Katniss reached Haymitch’s house and crashed into his living room, the old man was already drinking a flask of what smelled like white liquor. “Do you understand what the quell announcement means then Sweetheart?” he drawled. Katniss scowled at the drunk as she plopped herself down on the only other clean chair. He chuckled before running a hand through the grooves of the flask. The thing let out a beep before he placed it down.
“What was that?”
“Gift from Beetee, it’ll keep the bugs at bay for five minutes so I’m only gonna say this once,” Haymitch droned his eyes suddenly sober. Katniss did not like where this was going, the last time this had happened she joined the rebellion and learned 13 was still alive and well. “The districts are on edge, Rue’s win last year made a lot of people upset in the capitol for betting reasons, and in the districts because of compassion or whatever- this year Snow needs to show the power he holds. Just like he said, but he can’t pick anyone too obvious, he’s gonna pick someone that’s gonna make us miserable or the district as a whole miserable. Demoralize us from fighting. So each tribute will be very specific to their district and it’ll be unlikely we’ll be able to tell why each was picked off the top of our heads.”
Katniss' mind whirled with possibilities. Snow wouldn’t purposefully choose any young children, they all knew he was cruel but his cruelty was baked into the system. If he wanted to show his benevolence he would pick older kids. She scowled, she couldn’t think of anyone that fit the bill off the top of her head, but she had a feeling Snow already had some ideas.
“Who do you suspect?” she asked Haymitch.
Haymitch winced and Katniss knew it would be horrible, “We’ll know all 24 tributes by the end of our dear president's visit,” he explained, Katniss raised an eyebrow, “Our insiders will get the list and give it to us, that way we have a better chance of the plan going forward.”
“What plan?”
“Sweetheart you’re lucky your angle is sullen and hostile or we would be nowhere,” he shook his head as the glass let out another beep. Katniss' scowl deepened and Haymitch laughed. Katniss didn’t have an angle, Haymitch had tried to help her act at least somewhat decent onstage but 14-year-old Katniss was having none of it.
“So what do we do now?” she asked.
Haymitch sighed before taking a long swig from the glass. Katniss had to admit that it was ingenious. No one would question why Haymitch Abernathy carried around a flask. Honestly, even Katniss had to remind herself that it was a destabilizer, “We wait for our favourite president to grace us with his presence.”
~~o0o~~
The bakery was in an absolute tizzy as the president's visit loomed over all. In fairness, the whole district was in a tizzy. Most people wanted to spend the president's two-day trip in their homes avoiding his eyes on their children, but head peacekeeper Cray had dissuaded anyone of any such notions. The district security had tightened in the last couple of days, everyone was on the edge.
Even Katniss had forgotten her weekly trip to the bakery, Peeta held back a grimace. That was always his favourite time. Katniss would sit watching over his shoulder as he designed the newest cake for her sister. He shuddered thinking of the time she placed a hand on his shoulder, moving him to get a better look at the sketch. Peeta snapped himself out of his thoughts feeling more than a little pathetic. He continued as he piped the white roses, usually the site would make him smile but the symbolism of the flower was not lost on him.
Soon President Snow would come into their bakery, just as he had for the other districts. In the other districts, it had been higher-profile bakeries that could accommodate the high-class dignitaries that would be visiting. The only Bakery in District 12 was not one of those bakeries, the Mallarks could only do so much.
Thankfully they had Peeta, who had a talent for crafting beautiful things. Peeta continued decorating the elaborate cake. It was the biggest one he had ever decorated, and he had a horrible feeling that it would never be eaten. It had to be too much of a safety risk. However, Peeta thought that they might just test the food.
Rye interrupted his concentration with a playful punch on the shoulder, “Peet can you please do the sweet bread- I know this cake is important or whatever but their not expecting perfection. It’s district 12, they are expecting the bare minimum. Actually, I think they might be expecting a pile of dirt,”
“Yeah and what if it's horrible and the president decides to punish me-”
“Stop being overdramatic,” Rye just rolled his eyes, “he’s gonna pick someone else- most likely some big-looking seam kid.”
“You don’t know that- this is all unprecedented.”
Rye began to smirk, his eyes lighting up with mirth, “Come on peet you're just upset because kitty Kat didn’t come over for her cake this week,” Peeta tried to suppress the blush that was rising up his neck and onto his face, he spluttered as Rye began to laugh. “Come on Peet, when are you gonna give it up? It was kinda pathetic when she was just another seam girl but now that she’s a victor it's just sad.” Peeta just grumbled as Rye realized that there was no way that Peeta was going to do the sweet bread now. He turned on his heel ready to try and persuade Aran to do it for him. Peeta sighed, Rye was right. It was getting a little sad- ok it was already really sad. She was just so perfect, and he was always pleasantly surprised when she came to the bakery to get her cake and spent a good hour or so with him. It was more than he’d ever thought he’d get. He shuddered as he remembered visiting her before her games.
He had been the last one to visit with only three or so minutes left. He had run to the bakery grabbing three cheese buns, the ones he had learned she favoured. He had handed them to her, her face wet with tears. She had looked at him like he had five heads as she took the still-warm loaves. They had just stayed like that for a minute before he willed himself to speak, all of his charms gone out of the window as he muttered what was sure to be nonsense to her.
“I heard you sing when we were little- I- it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I’m sorry no one will ever hear it again,” he had said. She stared at him her fathomless grey eyes like fire as she clutched the bread like it was a lifeline. The peacekeepers came to cart him out only a minute later pulling him away with a sharp tug of the wrist.
Katniss had other plans tho, she held tightly to his other wrist. So tightly it had left a mark. Her eyes really were fire now, the grey almost unnoticeable in the black that encircled them. When she spoke it was harsh and sharp, her teeth gritted like they might break, “These will not be my last words to you Mallark, I still have more to say.” As she let go of his wrist finally letting the peacekeepers extricate him from the room he couldn’t help but believe her. He had waited- waiting the agonizing week as she trained. As she glared through her whole interview. As she ran towards the cornucopia with a fervour. As she navigated the mountainous terrain. As she lay dying singing the most beautiful songs he’d ever heard. As she won the Hunger Games.
He can honestly say it was the most agonizing experience of his whole life, but she had won and she had spoken to him again, and she did in fact have more to say. It wasn’t much, Katniss had never been one for prolonged talking. Allowing him to do most of the speaking, but those few seconds when she would speak- asking for a certain detail on a cake with a crinkle at the corner of her eyes or to add onto a joke with a straight face- it was the best thing ever. He cherished these small moments, the ones he had mourned never getting as she shuffled into the train to the 72ed Hunger Games.
He hoped that eventually, they could be more than casual friends if she would allow it, but Peeta wasn’t going to hope too much. Hawthorn still hung around her glaring daggers at anyone of the male persuasion who even dared to look at her. Peeta frowned to himself as he continued decorating the large cake. Everyone knew that Gale liked Katniss, everyone except Katniss it may seem. While this was a bolster to Peeta’s morale he knew that it was only a matter of time before Hawthorn finally made his move. At which time Peeta will be completely miserable. Tho, he supposed he could live with it if she continued her weekly trips to the bakery. It was more than he could ask for to begin with. The cake was completed as he finished the thought. The delicate white and gold frosting looked beautiful, Peeta just wished it was for a different occasion.
Any other occasion.
~~o0o~~
President Snow walked around District Twelve as tho he had been there before, Katniss was not aware that he had in fact been. The two victors walked directly behind the older man both trying not to glare at the world. The sickening amount of peacekeepers that surrounded them was making the whole district nervous.
President Snow had a soft smile on his puffy lips, he was walking through town speaking to anyone who looked under the age of 18. Everyone he spoke to tried to smile but the overwhelming trembling of their hands and the way their voices cracked as they gave him their names showed all. Katniss watched the man carefully seeing the joy that their fear brought him. It made a shiver run down her spine almost more than the synthetic roses that Snow was so fond of. Katniss supposed that was the point of this all, instilling fear within the districts. The Hunger Games always instilled a good amount, but that was impersonal. This was personal, and that was far more terrifying than the almighty machine of Panem.
Katniss had to admit that it was a smart move.
A terrifying move, but a smart one nonetheless.
Snow turned on his heel and the peacekeepers flanked him like a flock of horrible white birds. Snow moved carefully into the bakery, looking at the cakes in the window with a careful eye. Haymitch was staring at the back of the president's head as though willing it to explode. Katniss almost envied Haymitch in those moments, the old victor had nothing to lose so he could do whatever the hell he wanted. Katniss took in a breath as she entered the bakery, the smell of bakery bread and cinnamon marred by the horrible scent of roses.
The Mallarks stood at attention bright smiles on all of their faces, Katniss kept the scowl on her face, it was all she could think to do. The usual soft smile she reserved for Peeta would not cross her lips, she would never forgive herself if that single action sent the sweetest boy in the world into the Hunger Games. She wanted to make sure Snow didn't have anything on her, she would show no favouritism, not even a single smile. Thankfully for her Snow’s presence in any setting was enough to keep the scowl firmly in place.
Or at least she thought.
Peeta looked like he was about to have a stroke right there in the bakery. It would be hard to tell if Katniss hadn’t spent the last two years or so studying him while he baked or drew or just spoke. His face was in a bright smile but his eyes were less blue than normal. His arms were curled around his back, feet firmly planted on the ground, the same stance he’d take whenever speaking with his mother. As though he was expecting the older man to slap him.
The other Mallarks didn’t look fazed, except for perhaps Mr. Mallark who even while smiling kindly looked like he wanted to hurl. President Snow smiled his puffy-lipped smile at the family, his eyes landing on Peeta for only a moment before he looked to the beautiful cake filled with white roses placed all through out with gold frosting delicately pipped into ribbons. The older man nodded his head at the cake and a peacekeeper placed a small syringe in the back layers pulling up a small sample. The tester let out a beep before it came back clean.
Snow’s face brightened horribly, “who created this lovely cake? I do quite like the roses.”
Katniss visibly stiffened as Peeta stepped forward his stance never breaking, “That would be me, sir. I do all the cakes, I know you like roses sir, their frosting, I know there are edible roses but I thought you would like the frosting better…” he trailed off his hands fidgeting behind his back.
“Well, then how about you give me a slice,” he commanded. In words, it was a request but the tone indicated that there was no way around it. Katniss almost wished it was poisoned but then Peeta would be blamed and that would probably be worse than the games. Peeta quickly did as he was asked taking a knife and cutting the cake, revealing the perfect layers inside. “What flavour?” the old man asked as he inspected the plate given to him.
“Vanilla sir,” he answered as he reentered his previous stance, “though the inner frosting is lavender,” he continued as he pointed to the slice.
Katniss did not like the way President Snow was looking at her boy with the bread, but she could not let him know what she was thinking. President Snow took the cake from Peeta before taking a large bite and smiling. It was unsettling.
Snow looked like a snake ready to sink his teeth into “And what would your name be young man.”
Peeta’s eyes twitched almost imperceptibly before he smiled like the sun, “Peeta Mallark sir."